#this probably hardly matters and i’m getting annoyed over nothing

[codgod]

every time you draw qmariana with top surgery scars an angel dies

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, gods.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, gods.”

Nico scowls, wrenching just eyes away from Will’s poorly-covered grin and shaking shoulders.

It’s not that bad. It isn’t.

Sure, the complete lack of lighting except Greek fire torches makes the cabin look like a little piece of the Underworld, right here on the surface. But that’s comforting. Honestly. Nico knows the Underworld. It’s — familiar.

And, yeah. It would, probably, be pertinent to have some furniture, or something. At least somewhere for him to store his clothes, because he has more than one set of those now, and maybe a shelf, or something. And, admittedly, the obsidian altar could take up a little less space than it currently does.

But it’s not that bad.

“Are those. Coffin shaped beds.”

The tone of Will’s voice is unlike he’s ever heard it. He turns back to face him, slowly, and finds him biting his fist, hard, every muscle of his body tense as live wire.

“I was twelve godsdamn years old,” Nico snaps. “Forgive me if interior design wasn’t my passion.”

Solace loses it.

In his defense, not that Nico is too worried about defending him, he does appear to try very hard to not lose it. When the first giggle slips out of his lips, he clamps his jaw shut tighter. When his whole body begins to shake with the force of repressing his laughter, he curls inward, as if making himself smaller might reduce the chance of a lapse in control.

But then he glances back inside and looks, really looks, at the dreary, stone walls, the lone skeletons standing guard, and the plush, teakwood black coffin bunk beds, and he collapses to the floor.

“I’m going to open a chasm beneath you,” Nico threatens. “You are going to fall and crack your spine into a million pieces on the bank of the Styx, rotting there with every other forgotten hope.”

“You are a Black Parade lyric personified,” Will wheezes.

Nico doesn’t know what that means, so he kicks him. Unfortunately, he only laughs harder.

“I mean it, Solace. It’s a long way down to the Underworld. You will spend the entire fall petrified with the knowledge that nothing can save you.”

For added effect, Nico makes the floor under the medic’s body shake, makes the tip of a skeleton hand peek out from the earth.

Ironically, this stops Will’s laughter, but not for the reason Nico was aiming for.

“Hey!” A bright blue flipflop-clad foot darts out and collides With Nico’s ankle, sending him sprawling. “I said no spooky magic for the next two months! Put that skeleton away!”

“Fuck off, Solace! It’s barely half a bone! You are so annoying!”

“That’s my specialty.” Will pushes himself upright. He waits until Nico sits up, too, so he can catch his eye before his face splits into a dazzling grin. Actual sparkles seem to flicker beside his face. “And you are ever so easy to annoy.”

Nico stares, unimpressed.

“Anyways.” Will coughs. “You can’t stay here, Neeks —”

“Don’t call me that.”

“— it’s straight-up too depressing.” He peers inside. “It’s also cold, and, like…borderline unliveable? So. As your doctor, I can’t allow it.”

“You’re a medic,” Nico says, raising an eyebrow, “first of all, not a doctor. Second of all, you can’t tell me what to do. Third of all — where am I supposed to sleep? The woods?”

“Hm. Good question.”

Will gets to his feet, brushing the dirt off his shorts and offering Nico a hand. After a second of hesitation, he takes it, allowing Will to haul him up.

“C’mon!”

Nico snatches his hand away, face burning. (Gods. Why does Will have to be so…touchy-feely? And why does it always do weird things to Nico’s stomach?) But it hardly takes a look over Will’s shoulder before Nico’s feet are following after him, without his permission.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, my dad’s kind of a hoe,” Will says matter-of-factly. Nico chokes. Will’s grin widens. “And our cabin was built with that in mind. I know we’ve got an extra bunk or two for ya. Hurry up!”

This…cannot be allowed. Nico doesn’t have a ton of Camp Half-Blood experience, or anything, but as far as he knows, Hermes is the only cabin that can really do that. He doesn’t want to incur the wrath of Apollo, or whatever, by staying in his cabin uninvited.

Well. Will’s inviting him, technically. And there’s a confidence to his offer, like maybe this isn’t the first time he’s done it.

“What if I don’t want to live in your stupid sunshine-y cabin,” Nico grumbles, trying to cover up his nerves. “Holding hands and singing about how much I love being alive isn’t really my cup of tea.”

Will snorts. “Oh, di Angelo,” he says dramatically, shaking his head, “you are in for a world of discovery. Welcome to the Cabin Apollo. Take your shoes off at the door and remember that Kayla bites.”

———

Living in the Apollo cabin is strange.

Four days in, and Nico is only just starting to get used to it. He’s not entirely unused to sharing space with people — he’s had two sisters — but the Apollo kids argue like they enjoy doing it. One minute, Will and Kayla will be screaming at each other at the top of their lungs about touching each other’s shit, then they’re teaming up to pull Gracie off Yan’s face for the exact same argument, only now they offer sage advice on respecting boundaries and compromising. It’s bizarre.

(Austin is pretty chill, actually. Nico has noticed him starting quite a few fights — it was he, in fact, who moved Will’s shit and then gracefully framed Kayla — but he has a very powerful eyebrow raise and a very powerful image as Unproblematic. He has quickly become Nico’s favourite.)

He’s only just barely beginning to understand how they work together, and the struggle comes in because everything is so chaotic. When Nico spent time with Hazel in New Rome, she was in the barracks. He never really had to worry about squabbling over counter space in the bathroom with her, because she had her own little toiletry caddie like everyone else, and bathrooms were public. With Bianca — well. There’s no one alive who knows this about her, but she was bossy. She was sweet and wonderful and self-sacrificing and brave and kind and the centre of Nico’s life, but by the gods, did she take her authority as a big sister seriously. She ordered Nico around all the time. He never had to worry much about when he would have the chance to use the bathroom they shared at the Lotus, or who got the T.V. remote, or who go to sit on the bus instead of standing, because he was not the one deciding. He could stick his tongue out and whine all he wanted, but she was boss. He knew that.

The Apollo kids are not like that.

As well as Nico can figure, it’s kind of a free-for-all. You want first shower? Either wake up the earliest — a strategy only Will every manages to employ with any success — or manage to jab an elbow in someone’s rib and sprint. You want whoever’s humming to shut the hell up so you can sleep? Make sure your threats are quick and believable, or just straight up start throwing shit until they finally stop. You want the coveted middle of the bench spot at breakfast? Well, tough shit on that one, actually. Nico has yet to make that one happen for himself.

He won’t admit it, but he has kind of learned to enjoy it. It’s annoying, and the Apollo siblings do indeed sing at all hours of the day (although the content usually skews more towards diss tracks and delighted insults, if not straight-up curses), and it is so godsdamn bright in there, seriously, is it a gimmick or what, but there’s something to be said about the fact that he’s so surrounded by people and chaos that he hasn’t even had the chance to feel lonely. Not even at night, panting to himself after a nasty nightmare, because all it takes is a particularly loud snore from Will one bunk down to remember where he is. To remember that he’s safe — by demigod standards, at least.

But, still.

He kind of misses his privacy.

“Will,” he whispers urgently, on his fifteenth day of rooming with the Apollo weirdos.

The medic hums noncommittally, attention very focused on the test tube in front of him. Nico has been fighting the urge to try and launch a piece of dust inside it for forty minutes, just to make him explode.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Sounds good, Nico.”

Nico narrows his eyes. “You’re ignoring me.”

“Uh-huh. Agreed.”

“I can say anything I want right now.”

“Sure. Maybe double check with Austin.”

“…I’m going to put a colony of ants in your pillowcase.”

“Good idea.”

“Then I’m going to douse your hair products in gasoline and set them aflame.”

“Baller.”

“After that I’m gonna read your super secret diary to the entirety of camp at singalong tonight.”

“You betcha.”

“And then I’m going to shadow travel to Russia.”

Will blinks, frowning. “Hey, no shadow-travelling. What’s this I hear about shadow-travelling?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Nothing, stupid. You were just ignoring me.”

Will smiles guiltily. “Aw, I’m sorry, Neeks. Got focused on this. I’m finished in twenty, then I’m all yours?”

“…Don’t call me Neeks,” Nico grumbles, furious with himself for how quick he’s relented under wide blue puppy-dog eyes.

“Sorry, Neeks.”

Huffing at Will’s quiet laughter, Nico slides off the nurse’s station counter and wanders around the empty infirmary. Things have luckily finally cooled down in here, nearly three weeks after the end of the Giant War. Some of the exhaustion has faded from Will’s features now that he’s had time to sleep properly.

Not that Nico has noticed, or anything.

“Okay,” Will says a few minutes later, holding his hands up protectively in front of his geeky little setup. “I just gotta do this last step, so long as I calculated it right, it should be fine…” He squeezes a drop of something into the liquid bubbling over the burner, freezing immediately. One, two, three seconds pass and nothing happens, so Will relaxes, sighing in relief and turning to face Nico fully. “Okay, we’re good. What was it you wanted to —”

The text tube contents explode in his face, dousing him in slimey green goo.

Nico bursts out laughing.

“Great,” Will says darkly, swiping the stuff from his eyes. “The one day I don’t wear goggles. Great.”

Nico gasps, sides aching. “Oh my gods —”

“Feel free to help, di Angelo.”

“— you look like a cartoon! Your face!”

It takes Will twelve cloths and seven whole minutes to clean himself and the nurse’s station off of the goo. Nico cackles at him the whole time, and tastefully does not mention the many globs of goo that remain caked in his hair.

“Whenever you’re done.”

Will is very, very bad at being stern when he doesn’t really mean it. And he doesn’t really mean it now, because every time he tries to glare at Nico, his mouth twitches.

“I’m good,” Nico finally wheezes, forcing his face back to normal. “I’m good, I’m good.”

He very pointedly does not look at Will’s hair.

“Dick,” Will huffs, fondness bleeding into his tone. “What did you want?”

He must notice the change in tone at his asking, because he clears the bench fully, hoisting himself on top of it and patting the spot next to him. Nico hesitates for half a second, then crawls up, sitting criss cross applesauce, knees touching.

“I need to move back to my cabin,” he manages, finally.

Will’s face betrays no judgement or emotion. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He picks at a loose thread in his jeans. “I need — space.”

The thread loosens, allowing Nico to tug on it. A hole begins to unravel along the seam as he pulls and pulls and pulls. He stops himself before it gets too wide, tearing the thread off and winding it around his fingers.

“I can tell everyone to tone it down,” Will offers softly, eyebrows creased. “We’ll be more quiet, we’ll —”

Nico places a hand on his knee, cutting off his sentence. “It’s not about that, I promise. You guys have been great.”

A wounded look still pulls at Will’s strong features, as much as he visibly tries to pull his face back to something more supportive. “It’s not?”

“No, no. It’s just —” He frowns, trying to articulate the tangled mess of his thoughts. “I have my own cabin.”

“So?”

“And I can’t stay in yours forever.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Chiron’s been giving me looks, Will.”

“So what! I’ll — write you a doctor’s note, or something!”

Nico snorts. “A doctor’s note letting me sleep in your cabin?”

Will nods fervently, although he seems to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his suggestion, if the grin on his face is any indication. “Yes! For medical reasons, you know.” He mimes writing. “‘Patient’s cabin is dank and sad. To avoid bouts of misery, patient must sleep in the presence of the coolest and best and prettiest and most uplifting people in camp.’”

“Hm. Not sure Chiron’s gonna buy that last part. Not sure I buy that last part, actually.”

“Hey.”

Nico dodges Will’s shove, chuckling.

“Seriously, though, Will. This was never a long term solution, right?”

“I know. You’re cabin just — sucks so bad, man. No offense.”

“I take great offense to that, actually. My cabin is art.”

“Sure, Eddie Cullen.”

“I don’t know who that is, so that’s a horrible insult.”

“Travesty, honestly.”

Outside the open infirmary windows, Nico can hear distant, triumphant screaming, laughter, and the clang of metal. Today’s a good day. The weather’s balmier than usual, for late August, and some of the gloom that’s hung over everyone’s head for the bast few weeks seems to have lifted.

“You can’t go back to your cabin like it is,” Will says into the silence, startling Nico, “but —” he grins when Nico begins to protest, holding up his hand. “We can definitely change it up.”

He slides off the bench, botching his landing and almost sprawling on the floor. He holds a dramatic hand out to Nico when he rights himself. Nico ignores it, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet by himself.

“C’mon,” Will says, grabbing his hand anyway. Sparks shoot up Nico’s arm. “We need to go ask Chiron for the van keys and approximately five hundred dollars.”

———

Three hours is too fucking long to be in a vehicle. Especially when Will is driving, because all he does is play nonstop country music and let everybody cut in front of him.

“I’m driving us back,” Nico informs him as they (finally) get out of the stupid van, snatching the keys from his hands.

Will shrugs. “Sure.”

Nico had expected more of a fight, honestly. But he supposes neither of them are legally allowed to drive, age-wise, and besides, Nico technically has seventy years of driving experience on Will.

(…The Lotus had a racetrack.

Nico was very, very good at it.)

“What is this place, anyway?”

“This place,” Will says grandly, throwing an arm over his shoulders, “is essentially the mortal version of the Labyrinth, minus, you know, the soul-sucking terror.”

“Okay. All that’s telling me is that you have horrible ideas and we should leave immediately.”

Will rolls his eyes. “It’s a furniture store.”

“Well, then —” he punches Will’s shoulder, huffing when he only laughs. “Say that, then!”

“But then what would I do with all the drama in my heart?”

“Choke on it, hopefully!”

Ikea is weird.

Since Will did not tell him what the plan was, he didn’t draw up any plans. Luckily, Will has the dimensions of his cabin — although where he got them, Nico does not ask — so they spend an hour or so in the cafe drawing out a plan.

“You need more than two beds, Neeks.”

“Uh, no I don’t. Unless my father has something very important to announce to me, I need a bed for me, and a bed for Hazel.”

“What if I want to sleep over?”

“You can sleep on the porch.”

Mostly, they wander around the sets. Nico isn’t really sure what he wants his cabin to look like — he has to remind himself that yes, actually, he cares about the space he’ll be spending at least the next three years of his life in. It’s a startling reality, to have control over his own space. He must’ve had some say in his childhood bedroom, but he has no memory of it. He spent the most time in his and Bianca’s room at the Lotus, but that was already furnished when they got there, and besides, it only felt like they were there for less than a year. It always felt like a hotel room, never his room. Westminster was no different. His room in his father’s palace had already been designed, too. In fact he’d based his cabin on it.

What does Nico want his bedroom to look like, without someone else deciding for him?

“I’m not getting a fucking Lightning McQueen bed, Solace.”

“But it would be so sick! And look — it’s got little cubbies!”

“I’m going to ditch you, and shadow travel back to camp,” Nico threatens. “And I have the van keys, so you’ll be stuck here for real.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Will looks at him sternly, hands on hips. “No shadow travelling for you, Death Breath. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fade into nothing on my watch.”

“I’m joking,” Nico says, exasperated, but cannot deny the warmth that fills him up at Will’s concern.

In the end, he decides on a pretty normal bed. It’s bigger than Will’s bunk (“Or anyone else’s bed,” Will grumbles, “you lucky asshole.”), but not ridiculously designed. He picks a similar size for Hazel, only the frame is white, not black, and the bedspread that comes with it is a soft, coral pink that he knows she will like.

“Wanna see if they’ve got a Mythomagic bedspread for yours?” Will teases.

That would be the coolest thing ever in the entire world, Nico thinks, and is so embarrassed that he shoves Will, shrieking, into a giant basket of pillows for making him think it.

“Obviously I don’t want that.”

“You are such a turd! I’ll get you, di Angelo!”

He does not. Nico is way too sneaky for him, and after the fifth time Nico manages to give him the slip, he gives up, sulking in a display for a bedroom of a nine year old girl.

“Fitting,” Nico teases, gesturing to the princess wallpaper. “You drama queen.”

“Buzz off.”

Next, they look for furniture. It’s pretty easy — Nico doesn’t need much, and he’s not too concern with cut or style or anything. He quickly picks out two dressers, one to match Hazel’s bed frame, and one to match his, and then a couple bookshelves.

Four hours into their trip, Nico is exhausted. They have a three hour drive ahead of them, they’ve been out all day, and he wants to go home.

But Will stops him before they go get all the boxes for their furniture.

“This is still pretty bare bones,” he says quietly, then grins at his own accidental pun. Nico shoots him a venomous look, warning him against making it more obvious, and for once he actually listens. “You know, we’re still under budget. We’ve got around $200 left — we can get a motel, stay the night, then we don’t have to drive back right away. And tomorrow, maybe we can check out some other stores, look for smaller decorations and stuff. And if we don’t have to drive back tonight, we’ve maybe got another hour in here, if you wanted to get a couple more pieces.”

Nico opens his mouth to refuse — that’s way too much effort to spend on one person’s cabin, c’mon — then pauses, thinking about it.

Chiron hadn’t even thought about it before handing them the money. Will had barely gotten the words out before he’d started counting out the bills.

“I want you to make a home here,” the centaur had said, touching his hand. There was a pain in his kind eyes, stopping any protests. “I made a mistake, Nico, the first time you came here. In another life, you felt welcome enough to stay the whole time. Take what you need.”

What does he need? What does home look like, to him?

“There was a beanbag chair, in our room at the Lotus,” he says, pushing the words past the lump in his throat. “Me and Bianca used to fight over it.” His voice shakes. A tear gathers at the corner of his eye, and he blinks it back. “It wasn’t real fighting. When I called mercy she’d — scoop me up and throw me on it and squish in after me, and we’d sit together and play video games. Or read. She liked to read.”

Will squeezes his trembling hands. “We can get a beanbag chair.”

“And I — don’t like the blackout curtains. The dark makes me think of — the pit.”

“Okay. They sell lotsa lamps here, too. Might be nicer than the Greek fire.”

Nico nods. There’s — more, far more ideas, now, flooding his brain; Hazel crowding over him on a rug-covered floor, shrieking as he teases her about Frank; a desk tucked in the corner where Will sits, mouthing along to his textbooks as Nico sharpens his sword; Jason running his fingers along rows of books on a big, cluttered shelf; Reyna with her fist curled around her mouth, studying a chess board across from him, hair shining under the natural light from the window.

He can have that. He can have that.

Thankfully, all their stuff fits in the back of the van. Despite his insistence earlier, Nico hands Will the keys, and he drives around until he finds a shitty motel with a vacancy sign flashing out front. He pulls into the farthest corner of the parking lot, killing the engine, then waits.

“You okay?”

Nico shrugs. “I’m…not sure.”

“That’s okay,” Will assures, pressing a fleeting touch to his shoulder. Nico grabs his wrist before he moves away, tugging down his hand and linking their fingers together.

For once, it doesn’t make him feel all sparky. The warmth of Will’s hands is grounding, and so is the gentle squeeze, the smile he feels pointed in his direction.

“C’mon. Let’s check in and sleep, huh?”

Nico’s exhaustion compounds in the walk from the car to the lobby, so by the time Will is speaking quietly to the host, he’s half asleep, leaning on Will’s shoulder. He vaguely feels it when Will shifts his weight, sliding a hand around his waist to hold him better. He blinks and they’re standing in front of a door.

“Almost there, Death Boy,” he murmurs. “Hold on a sec.”

It takes him six separate tries to make the keycard work. He gets huffy when Nico snickers tiredly at him.

“Finally, yeesh.”

He guides Nico in, dropping the backpack he brought somewhere near the door. As soon as the bed is within Nico’s sights, he makes a beeline, barely remembering to shuck his shoes and jacket.

“Please do not sleep in your jeans.”

“Mmmfuck off,” Nico groans, already sliding under the covers. He’ll regret it in the morning, but whatever.

“Goober.” Callused hands brush through his hair, resting lightly on his forehead. “Goodnight, Nico.”

Nico’s out before he can even think to respond.

———

He wakes up, in the middle of the night, scream caught in his throat and heart pounding in his ears. The air smells like smoke and fear. The rushing of the Phlegethon is so loud it’s overpowering.

A loud snore knocks him back to reality.

Crawling desperately towards the source of the sound, he hangs over the bed, eyes adjusting rapidly to the dark to see a curled lump on the floor, head resting on his own hands. A quick glance behind him confirms the other half of the bed has been left untouched.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tiny smile chasing away the last of his fear.

He tugs the blankets off the mattress, pulls off the two pillows, and joins his dumbass, selfless friend on the floor.

———

“Question,” Will asks, swallowing the last of their disgustingly delicious greasefest of a breakfast. “Were you alive when Walmart was invented?”

“I was alive before your great grandmother was.”

“No, I mean — were you out and kickin’. Have you strolled the endless aisles of corporate soullessness, basking in the wonder of American overconsumerism?”

“…You’re such a weird, particular person.”

Will looks delighted. “You’re a Walmart newbie!”

He pulls into the dead, cracked parking lot way too happily for this hour in the morning. Nico would even say he takes the nearest exit to get to the store gleefully. He is embarrassed for him.

Walmart is…underwhelming.

As stupid as it is, Will had hyped it up so much that Nico was almost a little excited. It just looked like any other basic superstore. Will, for whatever reason, seemed delighted by that fact.

“I do not like this store,” he explained when Nico asked, expression not matching his words, “it just means so very much to me that you are joining me in the misery of having experienced it.”

They spend more time than they mean to just dicking around. At one point they nearly get thrown out by management, because Will finds a pair of NERF guns that some child dug out of its packaging and no words need to be spoken. They gear up and scamper off, hunting each other through fluorescent-lights hell.

“Please just get your shit and leave,” says the very tired looking manager, and they have the good gall to at least appear embarrassed as they mumble, “Yes, ma’am.”

It doesn’t take long when they have their head on straight. They get some fairy lights, a couple cool posters, dorky little trinkets that Nico probably doesn’t need, per se, but what was he supposed to do, leave the little plastic crow skeleton behind?

Unlikely.

With his own money, Will buys several cans of paint and a CD. He explains neither of these purchases. The look on his face gets steadily more infuriating as they make their way through the line, and Nico really, truly considers leaving him behind.

The purchase of the CD becomes very obvious very quickly. Even though Nico is driving, and therefore Nico should get music control, Will pouts and pleads until Nico gives in and lets him play his stupid country album. He justifies his decision in his own brain by noticing the radiance of Will’s smile as he belts out the words, badly, at the top of his lungs. He then spends the rest of the drive back to camp convincing himself not to be embarrassed for having said thoughts.

They get back to camp about lunch time, and Will destroys any attempt for a subtle reentry by whistling the second they cross the property line.

“Austin! Kayla!” he hollers, making Nico jump. “Come help us unload!”

“We coulda done it ourselves,” Nico grumbles.

Will pats his head condescendingly. “It has been twenty-four long, long hours since I’ve bosses my siblings around, Neeks. I need this.”

It does go by quite a bit quicker with Austin and Kayla’s help. Lou Ellen, Cecil, Yan, and Gracie come to help, too, but Gracie’s too little to carry much more than a small desk lamp. Instead, they lay down the biggest box — Nico’s bed frame — and let her climb on top of it, carrying her like she’s a queen atop a throne back to Nico’s cabin. She has the time of her life, giggling to herself like a madwoman.

By the time everything’s unloaded, a couple hours have passed, and the Hades cabin looks like a clusterfuck.

“Maybe you stay in Apollo a couple more nights,” Will suggests.

“Might have to,” Nico agrees. Will looks inordinately pleased with himself.

All in all, it takes about two days to disassemble the old furniture, get rid of it, and start putting together the new stuff. Will helps for most of it, but he has a few shifts in the infirmary, so Nico ends up trying to do a fair bit on his own.

“May the wrath of Zeus come down upon this fucking piece of shit, no good, poorly designed garbage-looking idiotic mother fuc —”

“Maybe time for a break from furniture assembling?” suggests a voice, accompanied by a quick knock in the open door. Will leans on the doorframe, grinning, box propped up on his hip.

“Will, thank the gods,” Nico sighs, relieved. He angrily shakes a tool in his direction. “Allen wrenches are fucking useless. I’m three seconds away from throwing this through the window.”

“Definitely time for a switch, then.”

Will’s smile is wide and crinkles his eyes. He’s got dimples, too, Nico is now noticing, and then very rapidly un-noticing then because gods above that is a dangerous path.

“Did you and Rachel get into another prank war?” he asks, praying the flush on his cheeks goes away.

Will glances down at his paint-spattered clothes. “Nah, this is just my painting outfit. Why ruin more than one set of clothes, you know?” He sets down the box in the middle of the room, then heads for the half-built furniture sprawled all throughout the cabin, tugging it all towards the middle. Nico inches towards the box, curious, and finds it full of dozens of paint cans and brushes, including the ones he got at Walmart.

“I didn’t know you painted.”

He flashes another grin in Nico’s direction. This one has a little mischief to it, a little teasing. His stomach swoops.

“Gotta have at least one artistic talent or my dad would disown me. Help me tape down this tarp, will you?”

It takes them twenty minutes to prep the room, protecting the floor and the furniture. Once everything is ready, Will jogs over to the CD player he gave Nico a few days ago, flicking through the stack of CDs and choosing one at random. Soft opera music begins to float around the cabin.

“Okay,” he begins, clapping his hands, “first we need a base coat. Get the white paint and the rollers.”

It takes them the rest of the day, painting until dinner, then waiting past sunset for it to dry. Nico follows Will back to his cabin that night — he wouldn’t let him sleep around the paint fumes — and the two of them return the next morning, re-donning their paint-spattered clothes. Will braids his hair, this time, tucking the little pigtails behind a kerchief. It makes Nico smile every time he looks at him.

As much as he’s in painting clothes, Nico doesn’t really do much of the painting. He stays in the centre of the room, half assembling furniture, half watching Will bring his walls to life with more colours than he’s ever seen in one place.

Will doesn’t ask what Nico wants him to paint in his murals. Instead, Nico watches as the streets of Venice begin to unfold on one of the walls, bright and blue and exactly as he remembers, even though he knows for a fact Will has never been. The shining fruit of his stepmother’s garden is next, with a notable absence of the pomegranate tree, and then the hills of New Rome, the sunflower field in rural New York Nico used to visit, the Chinese mountainscape from the first big shadow travelling jump he ever made. Even the poplar forests of the Underworld, looking much kinder and livelier in Will’s rendition than in real life, with Mrs. O’Leary and Cerberus chasing each other through the flickering leaves. Beautiful, colourful, breathtaking scenes; Nico’s favourite places, Nico’s many homes.

“I get a lot of dreams,” Will admits, dragging a smear of rich purple near the ceiling. “You’re in a lot of them. These are the places you’re smiling, the most.”

“They’re beautiful, Will.” Nico’s throat is drier than any desert he’s ever been to. “Gods, they’re more beautiful here than they are in real life.”

“Liar,” Will teases, although his smile is shy.

Nico has never seen him smile like that. He’s seen a lot more of Will in these past few days, actually; his softness, his kindness, his love.

He has only knows Will for a little over a month, he thinks. But Will loves him. That much is obvious.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

His eyes are still trained on his work. He is on his tiptoes on a step stool, one leg extended precariously, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. The curve of his brush is careful, meticulous. Only the best for his friends, for Nico. That’s Will.

“Hey,” Nico says again, more urgently. He steps forward, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.

“Just a sec, Neeks, as soon as I’m done we can —”

Nico pulls until he loses his balance, falling into Nico’s arms. He stares into wide, blue blue eyes, for one second, two, then presses their lips together. Will’s squeak of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, hands sliding up his arms to cup his face, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh,” he sighs, eyelashes ticking Nico’s cheeks as they flutter close. “Oh.”

He melts into Nico’s hold. There’s a thunk and a crinkle as his paintbrush falls from his loose fingers, splattering onto the tarp, and paint-wet hands tangle into his hair. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“You love me,” he murmurs in between breaths, lips brushing Will’s with every word.

“Yes,” Will breathes. He kisses Nico again, and again. “A lot.”

“Good.” He’s not sure if it’s the paint fumes making him lightheaded, or the odd, slightly uncomfortable position, or the intoxicating, delirious feel of Will’s warm skin. He’s not sure if he cares. “Good.”

It’s not quite an I-love-you-too. The words won’t form on his tongue, so instead he tightens his hold, sending them that way, and presses closer, closer, closer.

Will smiles into the kiss.

He understands just fine.

[igotanidea]

The remedy: Jason Todd x reader

(part 2 of how to be a good boyfriend series)

As of late Y/N was sad and tired and dealing with a whole whirlwind of negative emotions stemming from work overstimulation and pressure on her shoulders. Coming home exhausted, falling asleep on the couch, bordering the sickness but refusing to take some days off.

And it switched something in Jason’s head.

He was constantly around, asking her a whole amount of questions of what she’d like him to do for her, how could he be of help, how to ease her pain and make her days at least a little more bearable. Trying to the top of his abilities to be a good boyfriend, instead becoming the source of her headaches and irritation. And though the intension behind his behavior was quite obvious, and Y/N was doing her best to not lash out on him for being annoying, her willpower was wearing thin. Only waiting to snap and unleash the hell. All he had to do was just one more word, one more mistake that would push her over the edge.

It was only a matter of time.

***

“I made you a soup.” He smiled, being so proud of himself. Y/N was always fond of his dishes and now he was about to serve her a full three course meal with the dessert, having spent a few hours preparing something healthy to boost her mood and enhance her impaired health. “Come on, wash your hands, princess and I’ll set the table—”

“Stop…” she hissed, massaging her temples. “Just stop. Stop. Stop!”

“Y/N? What- what did I do? What happened? Is there something I can--?”

“Just stop fucking talking!”

If the command wasn’t enough to make him go silent, he would do it just out of sheer confusion mixed with hurt. Why was she mean while he was trying so hard to be there for her?

“I’m tired—” it took the great amount of self-control to form and say those words in hope he’ll understand he was making her feel trapped and suffocating.

“Okay. It’s okay princess. Do you maybe want to get some rest? We can eat later, I’ll make your bed and-“

“Ugh! Stop it Jason! Stop offering me so many things!”

“But-“

“Just shut up!”

Ouch. That must have hurt him and it reflected in his eyes and in his entire posture. Jason Todd just froze in the middle of the kitchen with a soup bowl in his hands, looking at her as if she was someone he didn’t know.

“I’m sorry – “ she whined realizing the damage done. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be mean-“

“I failed you again…”

“No, no you didn’t fail, it’s just-“ her voice faltered before she could finish the sentence. How was she supposed to tell him what the problem was while the right words just won’t come out to her head.

“I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

Great, now he was getting dramatic and turning into a giant, sad, beaten dog. Probably the last thing she needed and she was definitely not in the mood to try to placate him. Not while she was struggling to not fall apart herself while everything seemed too much.

“Jason—”

“It’s okay Y/N. It’s a fact and there’s nothing you can do with it. Clearly not even with those lessons you’ve been giving me.”

“One lesson. We had one lesson and it could hardly be called that. It was more like an advice to not listen to Grayson-“

“And still I’m not making any progress with it.”

“Lesson two.” She muttered, her head starting to kill her. “You don’t have to be my remedy to everything.”

“huh?” Jason frowned a little giving her a funny look.

“You don’t have to offer me stuff, come up with ways to make shit better, overwhelm me with choices and options. You don’t.”

“I don’t? But—”

“No. Sometimes, you just have to be. Let me whine, let me be weak without trying to uplift me. And not turn into my remedy to every word problem.”

“So like a pillow in case you are a crybaby?” He smirked and apart from the obvious tease she couldn’t deny Jason was a fast learner, regardless of his own opinion on the matter.

“Don’t push it.” She warned.

“Oh I’ll push it all the way. Now that I know you don’t want me to make you feel better-“

“HEY! I didn’t mean I want you to make me feel worse! You’re twisting my words. “

“Sure.” Jason shrugged casually, taking the perfect excuse to put his specific sense of humor on. “What were you expecting?”

“You’re such a jerk….”

“Just listening to your lessons love. It’s up to you how you’ll bring me up.” Jason laughed pulling her to the couch and trapping in his embrace and she knew she was about to get at least a few hours of teasing and mean jokes. But she wouldn’t have it any other way

“I’m gonna have to be careful with what I say from now on….”

“Yeah, you better. “

They snuggled close together enjoying the silence and the comfort of just being together.

[yuurei20]

Short translation from the second Twisted Wonderland novel: Jack and Yuuya

"First-year student, Jack, has been selected to play for Savanaclaw. The team that is overseen by Leona Kingscholar.

His appointment drew a lot of attention from other students. Very few athletes have ever managed to earn a place on that particular dorm’s roster immediately after enrolling. Savanaclaw is a powerhouse both by reputation and in reality, and when Leona was selected for the team three years ago, it sent shockwaves throughout the school.

You must prove yourself worthy by being unusually intelligent, magically proficient or physically adept—or all three—within the first month or two of enrollment in order to manage it.

Such a promotion would normally be reason for celebration, but Jack seems to struggle with mixed feelings on the matter, as he knows what Leona is planning.

When Ace and Deuce tease him for it, half in jest, Jack makes a pained expression and responds, ‘Praise from someone so underhanded is nothing to be happy about.'

‘You’re not thinking about dropping out though, are you?’

‘Of course not.’

Yuuya has been worried, but Jack’s expression immediately sours.

‘I don’t run away, no matter what. I’m gonna fight fair and square.’

‘In that case, something’s off,’ Ace says, pointing in the direction from which they’ve come with a puzzled look. ‘The procession is gonna start from the main building, right? Coming over here means twice the back-and-forth. So what are you doing out here?’

‘It’s not as out of the way as all that. I wanted to warm up before the match, so I went for a run. Then I just happened to see you guys…’

‘A run?’ Grim interjects. ‘That’s the same thing ya said this morning.’

Jack stops dead in his tracks.

‘You're overdoin’ it with all this runnin’ around before the match. Sure, you made the team, but this is takin' it too far.’ 

Grim seems mostly surprised by how Jack never grows bored of exercise, but Yuuya and the others shake their heads. It is unquestionably strange for Jack to have intentionally strayed so far from the meeting point for the procession, and now Jack himself is glancing about with shifty eyes.

Deuce and Ace exchange a sly grin.

‘It’s impressive that you managed to find us with all these people around. You sure it was a coincidence?’

‘And going for a run in your dorm uniform? You expect us to believe that?’

Suddenly flustered, Jack raises his voice defensively. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way! It's not like I came here to see how you guys are doing because I was worried that you might be nervous. It's just a coincidence! Coincidence!’

‘What’s the matter, Jack-kun? Getting all worked up. All you gotta say is, ‘I came to check on you because I was worried.’ Can’t be honest, huh?’ Ace mocks Jack’s obvious displeasure. Deuce chuckles, saying, ‘You’re hardly one to talk about not being honest.’

Yuuya had this same thought this morning at Ramshackle: Jack is good at looking out for others. He has a strong sense of responsibility that manifests in how he acts without thinking—without any hesitation. 

He bickers with Ace now, but his usual silent composure always feels just as dependable. He will often say that he doesn’t like moving in herds, but he probably finds others relying on him in classes, too, whether he likes it or not. The scene is reminiscent of when Jack chased off the ghosts this morning, telling them to stay away from him, and Yuuya finds himself laughing right alongside Deuce.

Jack, his faced flushed, looks straight at them. ‘Hey, cut that out!’

‘Ah, I’m sorry.’

Yuuya reflexively apologizes in reaction to the intimidating words. 

Jack was perhaps a little louder than he’d intended to be due to being so flustered, surprising even himself. Looking annoyed, he purses his lips.

‘…it’s not like I’m that angry about it.’ His tone is now much more subdued.

Yuuya apologizes again and Jack’s expression remains stiff, though his white ears twitch in response. 

‘And stop talking so formal all the time. We’re in the same year. It’s like I’m bullying you or something—it feels wrong.’

’I really didn’t mean to…’ Confused by the deepening furrow between Jack’s brows, Yuuya nods. ‘Okay. Sorry about that.’

Yuuya has been unconsciously using formal speech with Jack in response to the intensity of his first impression, but they are classmates, after all. It must have seemed rather odd, and then made even odder in contrast to how he speaks with his other fellow first-years, Ace and Deuce. 

‘As long as you get it.’ Though Jack’s gaze is still sharp, his tightly pursued lips seem to gentle.

Ace smirks, nudging Jack with his elbow. ‘Huh. I think I’m starting to get your vibe.’

‘What now—you mocking me?’

’Nah. Just think you’re funny.’

When Deuce joins in the teasing Jack shouts, ‘Shut up!,’ but the two are used to him now, and not the slightest bit intimidated. And Yuuya, who has come to understand Jack’s earnestness, now finds him interesting instead of frightening.

'Oh my, is that Jack Howl from Savanaclaw?’"

(This connects to Azul's introduction, below!)

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Apologies for the meeting scenario being massive. Zorg is just that kind of guy.)

- Zorg is nothing like what you’d expected. For a man whose name strikes fear into the hearts of his employees and onward, you’re surprised to find that he is simply a man: a scrawny, almost goofy looking man with the most unassuming face you’ve ever seen. You expected an intimidating stature, perhaps a dark sleek suit or a multitude of facial scars: and while you take notice of the faintest of marks in the space between his eye and eyebrow, none of those descriptors seem to be very accurate at all.

- Zorg is, for better or for worse, a bit of a disappointment: though it certainly makes dealing with him a hell of a lot easier. You’re well aware that he could maim you at any moment yet the image of him limping about your studio space while inquiring about your skills as a futuristic freelancer makes answering him without stuttering a whole lot more feasible.

- Regardless of your personal feelings towards him and his almost insultingly approachable exterior, you find yourself being hired to work for him; at least temporarily, by the time he makes his way out of your front door, leaving you with only a few fleeting directions and a business card with the address of your new place of employment printed plainly on the front.

- For the most part, Zorg pays very little attention to you besides the necessary check ins to monitor your progress with work. Frankly put, you’re nothing special to him, though being nothing special to a man like Zorg; someone who believes that life itself is hardly a precious thing, is not that much of an insult in comparison to the other sorts of things he could potentially regard you as. Nothing of note is a hell of a lot better than useless, expendable, or scum of the Earth.

- He regards you with his usual indifference, up until you manage to impress him with your expertise, proving yourself to be far more useful than he’d initially anticipated. You’re entrusted with more tasks and it becomes commonplace for him to call upon you at odd hours or pay you lone visits; oftentimes without warning. It’s during one of these visits that your relationship takes a bit of a turn….

- Admittedly, you’re a little tipsy when he knocks on your door, tipsy and tired and a little annoyed that you have to deal with work at such a late hour. But you let him in anyway, letting him look over your work as you stand against the wall near your desk, the level of familiarity that’s formed between the two of you making the interaction far less uncomfortable than it probably should have been.

"Don't you have anyone else you'd rather spend time with," You question, glancing at the clock hanging on your wall, sighing and rubbing at your forehead as you read the late hour displayed on its face. "A family, friends, girlfriend?

- He pauses, the gadget you've been working on still held in his hand and lifted towards his face, positioned in the way he was inspecting it mere seconds before. He glances at you for a moment and you wonder if you’re finally going to meet the ruthless businessman you’ve heard so much about. But after a long pause, he turns his attention back to your invention and answers you in an almost matter of fact tone.

"There's more important matters I'd rather spend my time dealing with. You for instance. You and your lovely little creations." The smile he sends your way is the type of smile you usually see from him, somewhat pursed and insincere; tight lipped yet loose at the same time.

“You never get lonely?”

“I’m a busy man. Far too busy to be lonely.”

“You never get horny?” That one gives him pause and, in a way, it gives you pause as well. You hadn't really anticipated voicing the question that had, against your will, crawled its way into your brain yet it had fallen out all the same. You stayed silent, stupidly feeling as though you had to double down.

"Now why would you wanna know about that?" He questions, sounding almost amused as his hands fall down from their raised position, the gadget in his grasp following suit as his fingers absentmindedly fiddle with it's different functions.

"Just curious." You answer quickly, hoping to move on from the topic, your eyes refusing to look him in his face.

"You almost make it sound like its a proposition." He replies, not letting you dismiss the conversation.

"I'm a little drunk." You say, half an excuse and half an apology.

"Ahh." He replies quietly, the sound of understanding feeling teasing in it's delivery, which you're almost certain is what he was aiming for. "Now is that a common thing for you to think about when you're under the influence?"

- You rub your face, taking in a deep breath before looking at him, his eyes twinkling as they watch you, crinkled slightly as though he's having the time of his life. You stare at him for a moment, weighing your options as best as you can before deciding to just go with it.

"All the time. You're a ridiculously desirable man," You state, watching him smirk at the comment, his hands moving to put your work back down onto your desk. "You never did answer the question."

"Maybe I'll indulge you some other time," He replies lightheartedly. "Unless that really was a proposition?"

"Until next time then." You conclude with a small smile, kicking off the wall and leading him back to your front door....

- Now, for reasons you don't care to admit are at least somewhat justified, Zorg kind of has an inkling that you might have a thing for him. And while that may not necessarily be the case at this point in time, it's enough to make him consider the thought of being with you; in one way or another, and the thought of it really doesn't seem all that bad. Zorg is, at his core, just a strange, kind of submissive little loser, so having a woman be into him is definitely a bit of an ego boost; especially when the woman is as attractive and talented as you are.

- You don't help your case when you decide to indulge in his banter. While you're under the assumption that he's teasing you, he's under the assumption that the two of you have a bit of a cat and mouse thing going on: that you're flirting with each other and that you're teasing him by acting all hot and cold. He finds it …alluring; at least at first.

- All the while you're just sort of confused; maybe a little purposefully blind to it all. You're not all that interested in him so when he's suddenly dropping in on you 10x more or coincidentally running into you in the corridors of the office or going to you with things he could very easily be asking his other "employees" about, you're either somewhat confused or just trying to brush it all off so as to not seem presumptuous.

- Though there's no denying that there is something going on, what with the way he looks at you, the random close proximity and the way he reacts to your teasing whenever you decide to return the same energy that he sends your way back to him. He almost seems flustered, seems like his throat goes dry whenever you're in his personal bubble or grin at him over your desk; like he's not used to the attention even though he's very adamant on trying to garner it.

- He's arguably an irredeemable monster, but now that you're thinking about it …he's actually kind of cute.... in a weird, cold, pathetic kind of way.

- Though the minute you start thinking that way, that's when you know it's all over for you....

- Luckily for you, Zorg has it ten times worse. He's wrapped around your finger whether you fully realize it or not. He's good at playing it cool; mainly because he has a somewhat unreadable face, but the minute you ask him for anything, it's already yours. Need a weapon? Simple Appliance? Time off? All you have to do is ask and endure the minute long stare he fixes you with before he finally agrees; sometimes with a teasing question of what he gets out of the deal.

- That being said: the best way to get what you want is to butter him up a little. Flirt, tease, maybe even touch him a bit and he's putty in your hands; no scary stare or nothing. It's a lesson you learn when you really need to leave work early and unluckily run into him in the elevator while trying to make your "secret" escape. You lay it on thick, smiling at him and praising him and clutching at his arm until you both make it to the lobby where he waves you off and lets you go; his heart beating rapidly after staring at your imploring and hopeful little looks.

- Though with this skill of manipulation comes the next phase in your relationship, one where he's much more blatant and open about his advances. This is the point in time where other people start to notice his interest in you; whether they're willing to risk their lives by speaking about it or not.

- Do his assistants understand why they're being shooed out of the room so he can be alone with you, or why he's getting them to deliver flowers or things of the like to your door, or why he's touching you, or speaking so lowly that it's obvious he doesn't want anyone else to hear him but you? Of course they do; at least on some level, but nobody is willing to open their mouths in one way or the other.

- To think of his affections for you as something lighthearted is a mistake: inside of him is a devotion that's almost suffocating; the sort of devotion that neither words nor actions can ever truly express. It becomes palpable in the way he stares at you, the way he speaks to you and the promises he makes.

- It's in those moments that he actually manages to fluster you, your heart and mind unable to process how earnest he's being in his statements. Some of the things he says just seem so implausible, his promises seem so impossible, yet the way he says them makes it seem as though there's no doubt in his mind that he can fulfill them. However, you should already know that there's a difference between everyone in the world and him.

- It's after he fulfills one of these promises that the two of you share your first kiss. You're called into his office, walking in on him sat at his desk, a small smile pulling at his lips. He reveals an object you've desperately needed/wanted for a long time and watches you stare at it in shock and amazement, pleased with himself as he hands it over to you.

- You gush over it for a few moments, thanking him profusely as he teases you about how difficult it was for him to track down. "But I did make a promise, didn't I?" He tells you, watching as you nod along to his words and inspect the object closely. You're only interrupted when he stands and closes in on you, quietly telling you that he thinks he might deserve some compensation for all of his trouble and asking what he's going to get out of this little deal of yours.

- It's a half joke that he makes quite often, one you usually write off with a promise of your exceptional work or expertise in the future, but this time you can't help but fall victim to the excitement and the heaviness in the air. The heat of his gaze bearing down on you in full force as you turn to look at him, scanning his face before leaning in to kiss him for a long moment, feeling the way his surprise slowly melts from his lips and is replaced by reciprocation.

"Well," He starts as you both pull away. "I think all that trouble was well worth it, if I do say so myself."

- Good thing for you, the trouble has proven to be worth it to this day....

- Zorg prefers to keep an air of professionalism whenever the two of you are out in public together, so while he's no stranger to touching you in the presence of others, he has a tendency to keep his affection to a minimum. This is, due in part, to the fact that he prefers keeping the details of your relationship somewhat vague: knowing how dangerous it could be for both of you to go public and show the entire universe just how much he cares for you. He's a man who's made a lot of enemies and if you're going to be with him, you'll have to understand that.

- That being said, he does like to make it known that the two of you are; at the very least, very familiar with each other. Sometimes it's purposeful, like setting a hand on your thigh when you're sitting in on a meeting with him, while other times it's just organic, like how easily the two of you dance around each other while gathering your things to leave or demonstrate a new product. They're typically done whenever he's a bit jealous or feels people are paying too much attention to you. A sort of "she's off limits" warning that no one dares to disobey.

- In normal situations, he's much more prone to staying in close proximity and murmuring quiet comments to you; typically somewhat flirtatious ones that are meant for your ears only, rather than being very touchy feely; though he might occasionally caress your skin in a fleeting gesture while passing you by.

- Hand kisses. He typically gives them to you just as the doors to his office closes: a snippet of affection that his secretary cranes her neck to try and catch.

- Slow, prolonged kisses. You usually lean in with the intention of sharing a quick kiss, yet almost always find yourselves hesitating to pull away; Zorg is especially guilty of this "habit" since he's usually the one asking for the "quick" kiss and then subsequently getting carried away.

- Being gently pulled down onto his lap. He'll take you by the hand and lead you to sit down as he speaks, hooking his chin over your shoulder as you continue your conversation. Sometimes he'll tease you but other times he'll simply listen, relaxing as he listens to you speak and/or explain something in front of you.

- Zorg is a little spoon and you can't convince me otherwise. It doesn't matter if you're taller or shorter than him: he's perfectly content having a backpack or a cocoon depending on the height difference. All that matter is that you're willing to hug him from behind.

- Zorg almost exclusively uses sickly sweet terms of endearment: things like my dear, darlin', sweet pea, honey bunch, buttercup, etc. You have half a mind to think that he's being sarcastic or mocking whenever he uses them, but when you take into consideration the rest of his vocabulary, you quickly realize that it's simply the way that he speaks. It wouldn't feel right being called "babe" by someone like him; you probably can't even imagine it coming out of his mouth.

- Speaking of his eloquent way of speaking: the way that he pronounces things might baffle you at times; or even get on your nerves, (*cough, cough* "corezes" *cough, cough*) but you'll definitely end up saying it the same way as him on accident at some point and it will make you momentarily question your entire existence. He probably won't even realize it but you will, and it's almost worse that way.

- Letting him ramble at you. I say "at you" because he isn't really expecting an answer. He's a very 'string of conscious' kind of talker so all you have to do is look at him and nod along; even if you don't fully understand or agree. He simply likes talking and knowing you're; at least partially, listening. He also just has a tendency to think aloud so sometimes when he's speaking, he isn't actually trying to tell you anything, rather, he's just trying to process his thoughts.

- Random stories about his youth. He doesn't purposefully keep things from you but he does have a tendency to tell you about inconsequential things rather than telling you stories about what others would deem "important moments" in a persons life. He only realizes that he's never told you about certain things when he offhandedly mentions them and you look at him all bewildered. "I didn't tell you about that?" Like?? No, no Zorg, I think I would have remembered you telling me about being in a war??

- He'll go from rambling energetically to being completely silent and that just something you're gonna have to get used to. It might be somewhat alarming at first but once you realize it just means that he's thinking really hard about something, it's easier to relax whenever it randomly occurs. Just give him some time to himself without any disturbances or bring up the last thing that he said to you and he'll work it all out and/or start talking again.

- Sometimes he tells you all of his business, other times, he tells you not to worry your pretty little head about it. It really just depends on the situation so don't take it personally or internalize it if he's being tightlipped about something or acting a little suspicious.

- Getting familiar with his secretary. He always insists that you should tell him the minute you arrive, but you still feel weird interrupting him whenever he's stuck in a meeting so you choose to talk and gossip with her instead. She's usually the one who spills the tea and warns you if there's something's going on whenever he's in a bad mood or the rest of the building is acting like chickens with their heads cut off.

- Accompanying him to galas and office parties. He simply loves having you on his arm.

- Having your own personal driver. Sometimes you'll walk out of your apartment or a random a store and find a car waiting to take you to him. It's just something that becomes normal for you.

- He lowkey has a tracker on you but when you're dating someone who has so many enemies, isn't it kind of reassuring to know that he always has an idea of where you are? ...Don't answer that.

- Though he might not always go with you himself but he always makes sure that you never miss out on something that you're excited about. If he's too busy to attend or if it's really not his cup of tea, he'll pay for you and your friends and/or some of his closest confidants to go so that you're not alone and that you're safe.

- He occasionally has some of his more trusted employees deliver different things to you and/or escort you places whenever he doesn't have the time. And while it's initially a bit awkward for them, they don't mind handing you an expensive bouquet of flowers if it means you'll be able to persuade your boyfriend not to kill them whenever they manage to "disappoint" him.

- He might be good at pretending that he's an extrovert but he isn't actually all that social. He usually just prefers staying in with you after a long day and relaxing by your side, watching the city buzz around you and the stars shine in the sky. He isn't against going out on dates but he prefers having you all to himself and not being bothered.

- Getting to play with Picasso; his little pet Souliman Aktapan. Consider yourself lucky, he doesn't trust just anyone with the colorful little guy.

- Giving him back massages. It's a good way to loosen him up a little and ensure that he isn't about to blow up an entire city whenever he gets a little too tense. It's also an easy way to butter him up whenever you want to ask him about/for something.

- Getting your hair and nails done together. He has people who meet him wherever he is so the two of you don't even have to leave your house whenever you feel like you need a quick trim or a new set. You're dating someone who wears clear gel polish, alright. Don't act so surprised.

- Dates to different types of shows. Operas, ballets, movies: he can get any ticket you could ever want with a couple simple calls.

- Cruises and vacations. Whenever he has to meet with someone somewhere other than his building, he'll bring you along with him and make a trip out of it: promising to handle his business as quick as he possibly can and enjoy the rest of the get away with you doing whatever you'd like.

- Art museum dates. I advise you not to gush over one particular painting too much or else you run the risk of owning it in the very near future: he is the art dealer after all.

- The weirder you look the better. He enjoys the uniqueness of your face, parts of your body, etc. It's like you're a collectors item and as an art collector, he cant help but love it. After all, art is full of subjective opinions and varying ideas about beauty and his idea of beautiful is the thing that stares back at you when you look in the mirror.

- He genuinely gets offended whenever you show signs of being insecure. Like, why are you trying to change yourself? You obviously don't feel comfortable? He chose you for a reason and he's sort of insulted by the idea of you thinking that there's something wrong with the person that he chose to love.

- That being said: as much as he loves your usual sense of style, he can't help but buy you things that fit his aesthetic. He isn't trying to change you or anything, he simply thinks you'd look good in them and finds the idea of you matching with him to be kind of sexy. They're also comparably high quality, expensive outfits as well, so it's sort of like buying you Vivienne Westwood when you usually just thrift.

- The two of you are really in tune with each other: knowing where things are when the other doesn't, swapping things from each others plates without saying anything, dropping things blindly because you know the other will catch it, etc. It makes him happy to think about it whenever he realizes just how comfortable you've become in each others day to day lives.

- A gentleman™. Expect him to open doors for you, pull out your chair, help you up steps, etc. If he doesn't then his employees certainly do and that's entirely because of him so it's still somewhat flattering.

- Getting a tour of all of his creations and the various things that he's collected.

- Getting used to explosions and loud noises. It's part of the world he lives in and it's something you're just gonna have to deal with. He'll usually turn to you and nonchalantly tell you to "cover your ears now, darlin'", which gives you all of ten seconds to do so before having your ear drums blown out by the loudest "boom" you'll ever hear.

- Don't be surprised when he upgrades all of your appliances and fills your home with the newest of robotics; though he might just move you in with him before that even manages to happen. He likes having you at his disposal 24/7 so you're either sharing a home or he's making himself at home in your place; which you guess is just what happens when your boyfriend pays 90% of your rent.

- He immediately takes over and handles things for you whenever anyone is giving you any sort of hard time. Say what you will about him and his methods, he knows how to get things done. You'll never have to worry about any car dealership or landlord issue again.

- Zorg loves you to the point of creation. If you struggle with something, he'll invest thousands of dollars into an invention that'll make it easier for you. He'll then excitedly explain all of it's functions to you with the biggest smile on his face, waiting to see how happy it makes you and how many kisses he's earned by creating it for you.

- Speaking of investing thousands of dollars into something: Zorg takes it upon himself to fund you and your lifestyle. He likes seeing you happy and knowing that you're living carefree so don't be surprised when he gives you his credit card or makes it so that your bills are forwarded to him instead of to you. Also don't be surprised when he compensates you for the few times that he manages to miss one of your dates; which typically happens because he can't get away from work.

- Part of this urge also has to do with his insecurities. He knows that he's a very divisive person and that many people would; rightfully so, view him as a monster but he hopes that spoiling you might convince you otherwise; if all else fails. He's not purposefully trying to make you dependent on him; not for nefarious reasons, but he is hoping that the benefits will out way the negatives whenever you may or may not consider leaving him. You never have to work again so maybe just consider loving him?? Please?

- If you're talking to him, he's in a good mood. If you aren't, all of his companions suffer. His right hand man can tell whenever the two of you have had an argument or if he's worried about you through the way that he's handling his business; i.e. being trigger happy or firing double the amount of people he needs to "just because". Alternatively, he can tell whenever the two of you had a good time since Zorg will actually be kind of lenient. His mood depends on you so try to remember that the next time you forget to call and say good morning.

- It's literally agony for him to wait for your messages or for you to arrive for your dates; especially at the beginning of your relationship. He's constantly checking his clock and his messages and looking all around him whenever he's waiting for you to meet with him or expecting a call from you. He gets all anxious and/or moody whenever you don't reply quick enough for his liking or something of the sort. It's honestly kind of endearing to see how important you are to him; especially since he usually forgets about how upset he may or may not have been the minute you get back to him.

- You literally get away with so much, it's actually kind of funny. He simply can't stay mad and you and it's honestly a little frustrating for him since he doesn't know what it is about you that stops him from holding a grudge. He guesses that it has to be love, right? It's you and his little desk pet: the only two things he really cares about besides himself.

- Zorg likes pushing your buttons whenever he can get away with it; or even when he can't: playing the whole "it was just a joke" or trying to make it seem like whatever he did or said was actually for the best once he gets in trouble for it. He's the backpedal/excuse master supreme, able to talk his way out of anything once he's getting the attention or the opposite of the attention that he was trying to garner. He's a brat who thinks provoking you is fun foreplay so don't take it to heart whenever he's being bothersome.

- He's a terrible flirt: not in the "he's constantly flirting" kind of way but rather in the "he's actually kind of bad at flirting" kind of way instead. He's an eccentric who's never really practiced talking to women before, so don't be surprised if he grows unsure of what to say or stumbles on his responses whenever you turn his actually successful attempts at flirting back around on him. Also don't be surprised if most of his flirting consists of somewhat odd statements that only really become romantic if you take his personality into consideration and think about them hard enough.

- Zorg is the type of person to want everyone but his significant other to fear him. At times, it might annoy him how little influence he has over you but he'd despise it even more if you ever showed signs of fear or uncertainty towards him. You're the love of his life. He likes when you scoff at him or bicker back or so on. He likes that you know he'd never hurt you.

- He literally hates being interrupted so much. You should see the glares he sends towards his employees or anyone else who walks in on the two of you whenever you're having a moment. It takes everything in him not to kill them on the spot and he's honestly, probably unsuccessful at times.

- Though he makes excuses for himself, Zorg still comprehends the fact that he's not a good person so a part of him fears that you might prefer someone who's much more morally correct. It's usually during these instances of insecurity that he tends to get more serious with his reactions towards his own jealousy: like making thinly veiled threats towards the other person or insisting that you shouldn't go somewhere; or sometimes even genuinely considering exterminating the other person.

- When the situation is less serious, he'll simply be jealous over the fact that you didn't spend as much time with him as he would have liked or that he didn't have all of your attention. He'll usually act a lot more petulant rather than malevolent: following you around and questioning you with a tone that resembles a whine the minute the two of you are alone. It's honestly kind of amusing to see him get so pouty.

- He's usually very eager to brush off anyone else that shows interest in him, fully willing to be blunt and occasionally even a little aggressive in order to get his point across. "Well my wife wouldn't like that very much." he'll say with a tight lipped smile before leaving the other woman the minute he sees her smile drop. Sometimes he'll try to make you jealous in order to provoke or get back at you but that usually consists of him simply not moving away whenever a woman approaches him; rather than actually returning any flirtation.

- He's literally willing to exterminate entire races for literally no reason at all. Imagine what would happen if someone were to bother you or possibly even put you in harms way. You just say the words; or don't, and he'll handle it. Please let him handle it.

- He can get a little over the top when he's upset, but you usually just have to tell him to calm down and he'll do so almost immediately. You might get a "don't tell me to calm down" but he'll still do it anyways; especially if you give him a look.

- He'll then dissolve into somewhat hysterical ramblings while he tries to explain himself and the issue he's having, or very calmly try to reason with you as he does his best to control himself. If he's on the calmer side, he might speak to you in a very purposefully sweetened and somewhat sarcastic, pointed tone: making those sorts of "now, I know you wouldn't do something like that, would you darlin" sorts of comments with a tight lipped smile which you typically return to him in full. "I would if you blah blah blah."

- He gets over things relatively quickly so it doesn't take long for him to shyly apologize whenever he's in the wrong or extend the olive branch whenever you are just so that the two of you can go back to being on good terms. He hates fighting with you and his mood really depends on how well your relationship is going so the sooner you make up the better.

- He doesn't say he "loves you" incredibly often but he will say it; usually in a slight mutter because he's a little embarrassed over how much he actually cares about you. He doesn't want to seem like a total softie but his softie-like actions speak louder than his words.

- Zorg would probably propose to you pretty early on in your relationship. He was sure about you the minute you agreed to be his girlfriend so he's pretty eager to move things along. As amusing as it may sound, he also seems like the type to want an almost stereotypical "white picket fence dream": the marriage, the kids, etc.

[stardustbarbarians]

Dial Drunk

A Samuel Kiszka / Daniel Wagner fic

Tags: angst disguised as humor, drinking, getting arrested, sam-centric

Trigger Warnings: implied alcoholism

A/N: Hi guys I swear I'm alive. Good Omens just has me in a goddamn chokehold rn. Anyway, I recently became obsessed with Noah Kahan and so this is the result. Cover made by the incomparable @ofthecaravel (thank you, Karou <3). Title from Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan (once again, not required, but I highly encourage you listen to it). Enjoy!

Words: 4.5 k

+++

I'll dial drunk, I'll die a drunk, I'll die for you

Sam was sloshed. And wasn’t that just the understatement of the century. He’d stumbled into this bar after the other one had kicked him out yelling something about him needing to stop causing a ruckus. It didn’t matter. 

What did matter was that the alcohol flowing through his veins was encouraging him to make the worst of decisions. His brain had long been soaked in tequila, taking close to ten plus shots over the course of the night. 

“Another,” he slurred out, slamming his empty glass on the bar to alert the bartender. He realized that he couldn’t focus his eyes on the man and something in the back of his mind told him that was cause for concern. Another shot would shut it up. 

“No, son. I’m cutting you off,” the bartender informed him sternly. At least, that’s what Sam thought he said. 

“I don’ CARE. Gimme ANOTHER,” Sam yelled, slamming the empty glass so hard onto the bar that it made the ice inside fly out and onto the floor. 

The bartender made for the glass, saying something about shattering it and getting Sam hurt. Sam, despite his sluggish brain, was able to yank it away and out of reach. 

“NO!!” 

The barman huffed and made another attempt at reaching for the glass Sam was holding. He pulled back even further to get out of the man’s reach only to find himself falling flat on his back onto the floor. 

“Yeah, you’ve had enough,” the patron on Sam’s right had declared. She got up from her stool and plucked the glass from his hand, Sam too stunned to try and fight her. 

The drunk slowly picked himself up off the floor, heavily relying on the arm the woman who took his glass offered. She was a burly woman, probably worked on the assembly line in the auto plant right down the road. She easily hoisted him up, Sam being about as heavy as a boiled noodle. 

The young man slurred out what he thought was a thank you, but it came out as more of a “thaa-oo” than actual words. 

Sam, still leaning on the woman without realizing it, locked eyes with the barman. “More.” 

“No. You’re done. If you’d like me to pour you a glass of water, I’d be more than happy to.” The man lifted his chin up just a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. 

It finally seemed to get through the sea of tequila that was Sam’s brain that he’d been cut off. Well, he understood that this gentleman was no longer serving him. And nothing as trivial as one person would stop him from getting what he wanted. 

Finally, he pulled away from the woman he was leaning against and rounded the opening in the bar. Unfortunately for Sam, this particular barman had guessed that would be his next move the minute he formulated the plan in his mind. However, he wasn’t fast enough. Sam was able to round the bar, but ran right into the bartender. Sam was hardly fazed, making a reach for one of the bottles of tequila behind the man. 

“If you don’t quit it, I will throw you out,” the bartender warned, pushing Sam’s arm down. He wouldn’t quit, trying to move past the annoying man to get his desired drink. 

“C’mon, man!” Sam was rapidly becoming more frustrated, his attempts becoming increasingly more violent. He eventually planted both of his palms onto the man’s chest and shoved him back. He stumbled a step or two but was able to recover, using his forearm to pin Sam against the bar. It hurt as it pressed into the small of his back, his arms attempting to shove the unwanted touch off of him. 

“Call 911 and tell them we’ve got a reckless drunk here,” the bartender ordered, looking at the woman who helped Sam to his feet. Sam was vaguely aware that his end goal was coming to fruition, but he was too preoccupied with screaming at the bartender to “get off me” and shoving his arm off. 

It was within the blink of an eye that Sam was being yanked from his shirt off the bar. He came face to face with the man he recognized as the bouncer. 

“Get a grip, man,” his deep voice growled out. Sam, whose brain was long past thinking through his actions, did probably the stupidest thing he could’ve. 

“Get OFF!!” he roared before rearing back and punching the man in the face. He stumbled back a few steps, nursing his jaw. But most importantly, he released the grip he held on Sam’s shirt. 

He took the opportunity and bolted for the door. Unfortunately for Sam, other patrons in the bar had begun to take notice of the massive disturbance he was causing. As he made for the exit, about four people took action and tackled him to the ground. He attempted fighting back, only to find himself completely pinned to the floor. 

“Take him outside,” the bouncer ordered from somewhere behind Sam. He felt hands strongly grasp him by the shoulders and pinning his hands behind him as he was marched out the front door. He tried to thrash against the hold on him, but it was no use. He was completely restrained. When they reached it, Sam was pushed forward out the swinging door. 

“Thanks, guys. I’ve got it from here,” the bouncer announced. The hands left his arms and shoulders. However, he wasn’t able to make an escape like he wished. Instead, he felt a tight grip on his shirt from behind him. He wasn’t getting anywhere. 

Sam was forcefully sat down on the curb, that hand on his shirt never leaving. He attempted running a few times, but each time he was yanked back violently. After the third time, he’d given up when he scraped his elbow on the rain-slick concrete. Since when did he get woozy at the sight of blood?

“You ain’t going nowhere until the cops take you away for punching me, you son of a bitch,” the bouncer spat, using the hold on Sam to yank him back once more. He sat on the curb, the cold of the rain sinking through the thin material of his shirt and seeping into his skin. He had to keep wiping the rain off his face, droplets trickling down his skin. His breath ghosted out of his mouth with each exhale, a chill long since setting into his bones. 

It wasn’t long until Sam saw the lights in the distance, the wailing of the sirens following quickly after. The cruiser with “sheriff” painted along the door pulled up right next to the entrance, an officer stepping out a moment later. That’s when the reality of the situation sunk in for him. 

When he finally looked up into the face of the policeman - having difficulty with the bright lights burning his retinas - Sam groaned. Could his luck have been any worse? 

“Samuel,” the officer greeted, a cold amusement in his tone. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a corner of his mouth twitched upwards. It was hard to see behind his large mustache, but right as rain, it was there. 

“Deputy Russell,” Sam grumbled, a pained look on his face. 

“How come when we got the call for a drunk and disorderly I knew you’d be the one waiting for me at the bar?” Deputy Russell towered over Sam from his involuntary seat on the curb, the latter having to crane his neck in order to look at him. 

Sam buried his head in his hands, groaning loudly. He felt like a scolded toddler after breaking a window. Except, this was significantly worse. 

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ve just got a crush on me, Alexander,” Sam managed to say relatively comprehensively. He even managed a pretty charming smile. 

That earned him a laugh from the policeman, albeit a small one. Still, it gave Sam hope that he’d go easy on him. 

“You’re not my type, Sam,” Russell lightly commented, his attention turning away from him to the bouncer, “Alright, tell me what he did this time.” He produced a small flipbook and pen from his brown rain jacket that had light brown piping along the arms and his badge embroidered onto the left breast pocket. 

The bouncer launched into a lengthy account of the events of the night; how Sam became increasingly violent as people tried to stop him. He became a lot more animated when he got to the part where Sam socked him. 

“...And that’s when we dragged his sorry, skinny ass outside. He tried making a break for it a few times, but he never got away,” the bouncer finished, his hand never leaving Sam’s shirt. It was probably going to be permanently stretched at that point. That’s not even mentioning the crimson staining the fabric from the injury on his elbow. Pity, Sam liked this shirt. 

With a sigh, Deputy Russell finished taking his notes on the bouncer’s story. “Did he manage to hit anyone else?” 

“You’d have to ask Jerry about that one. I only intervened when he went behind the bar,” the bouncer answered. 

 There was a deep-seated look of disappointment that had crept onto his face as the bouncer went further and further into his account of the night. The deputy scribbled something else down on his paper before flipping it closed. 

“Arlight, Sam. You know the drill,” the deputy sighed in a resigned tone as he removed the cuffs from his belt. 

He knew this part was coming. It was what he was hoping for. 

“Breaking out the cuffs tonight? Awww, Alexander, what’s the occasion?” Sam teased. He rose up from his spot on the curb; or, at least, he tried to. The bouncer still had his hand fisted in Sam’s shirt and he ended up nearly falling onto his face if it weren’t for Deputy Russell’s lightning-fast reflex to grab Sam by the shoulders. 

“You’ve proven that you can’t be trusted,” Russell grunted, righting Sam on his feet before twirling him around. 

The metal of the cuffs was cold as they dug into the skin of his wrists. It didn’t help the chill that had nestled into his bones at all. The noise as they snapped into place was a unique one - a cross between a snap and a creak - and one that was not unfamiliar to Sam. 

“Hope you rot in that cell,” the bouncer spat as he watched the young man get loaded into the back of the patrol car. 

“And that shiner looks real cute on you. I can give you another one as soon as I’m out, sweetheart!” 

“I didn’t hear that,” Deputy Russell firmly stated, accentuating his point with the slam of the car door. It wasn’t that he was trying to get Sam out of trouble, he just didn’t want to add another charge atop his mountains of assault paperwork he would have to file in the incident report. 

+++

“Samuel Kiszka… I should’ve known it was you,” someone drawled from within the precinct. Sam knew that voice all too well. 

“You owe me a twenty, Alice,” Deputy Russell yelled as he hauled Sam inside. 

Sheriff Alice Langston was the best Sheriff the county had seen since 1967. She wasn’t a strict by-the-book woman, but knew when someone deserved some leeway and when they deserved the wrath of God. She was in her mid fifties, gray streaking her black hair that was always pulled back into a very professional bun. Smile lines had creased themselves besides her dark brown eyes along with the ridges in her forehead. 

“You thought someone else was being an annoying drunk?? Alice, I am deeply hurt…” Sam joked, his face pulling into a look of fake offense. He was rather good at acting and perhaps in another life he would’ve pursued a life on the stage rather than attempting to break the local record of most arrests before 30 years of age. 

“What can I say, I’m an optimist,” she replied to Sam before turning to her deputy, “what did he do this time?” 

“The usual. Drank himself stupid until someone tried to stop him and got violent,” Deputy Russell recounted, a wariness in his voice that came with months of dealing with Sam’s tiring behavior. 

Sheriff Langston put her hands on her hips and shook her head. A sigh that originated deep within her bones escaped her lips. “When is this going to stop, Sam?” 

Sam just shrugged his shoulders. “When I’m dead, perhaps.”

The sheriff placed a hand on her forehead, her fingers rubbing at her temples. Sam knew how much of a pain he was to the local law enforcement and underneath all of his heartache, Sam was sorry for it. But, it was the only way he could have a valid excuse for calling him. So he wasn’t going to stop until Sam finally got his ex back. 

“Lock him up,” Sheriff Langston ordered her deputy with a sigh. 

“Wait, wait. Don’t I get my phone call first?” Sam frantically asked, his head whipping around back and forth in order to try and get a better look at Deputy Russell who was behind him. It made his head spin even more and increased his feeling of nausea, his stomach churning aggressively and making Sam want to keel over. 

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Langston informed as she made her way to her office.

“That’s not fair!! I want my one call!” Sam screamed, attempting to wriggle away from the deputy’s grasp on his arms. It wasn’t as effective as he hoped given the fact that he could hardly walk unassisted and was about one sharp movement away from vomiting all over the carpet of the precinct… again. 

“And I want a million dollars. We don’t all get what we want, Kiszka,” Deputy Russell grunted as he moved Sam towards the holding cells. 

Sam was uncuffed before he was pushed into a holding cell, the door slamming behind him with a resounding finality. It echoed off the walls of the holding area, making the pounding in Sam’s head worsen. 

“Can I at least get a towel or something?? I’m gonna die of hypothermia at this rate,” Sam pleaded, his hands wrapped around the bars and pressing his face in the space between them. 

With an eye roll dramatic enough to win him a Tony award, Deputy Russell turned on his heel and disappeared out of the hold cell area and down a hallway that Sam had never been down. A few minutes later, he reappeared with a beach towel in his hand. 

“Thank y-” his gratitude was cut short with the towel being thrown in his face. Sam, in his drunken state, fumbled the folded cloth for a moment before he secured it in his hands. He was just thankful he managed to grab it before it touched the floor. He knew firsthand how fucking disgusting the floors of these cells were. And considering his shoes were sticking to the floor, he’d rather not let the thing he wanted to wipe his face with touch it. 

He unfolded it without ceremony. He had to laugh at the fact that Ariel was featured prominently on it. The towel was probably one that came from Russell’s personal locker, one he probably took from home. He had a daughter who was now in her teens; Sam had seen pictures and heard stories from Russell about her. Sweet kid. Brilliant. 

Sam threw the towel over his head and began scrubbing his hair, the droplets dripping off the strands and down the skin of his face and back had been driving him crazy since he was thrown in the patrol car. Next he patted his body down, knowing it was nearly futile as he was soaked to the bone. Once he was done with that, he threw his hair up into a towel tie, thankful the wretched stuff was off his neck. He liked how long his hair had grown - to the middle of his back - but it was certainly a pain to maintain. 

“So. Just us again, huh?” Sam asked Deputy Russell after he’d finished toweling off. 

“Yes, considering god hates me,” the officer grumbled under his breath. 

“Awww, I’m not that bad."

The glare that the deputy threw at him was deadly. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a loveable nuisance as he’d thought. 

“Tell you what. I’ll cut you a deal,” Sam began, his hands back around the bars as he got as close to the deputy as his enclosure would allow him. 

“Because you’re in a position to negotiate,” Russell laughed, the sound bordering humorless. He’d taken his hat and rain jacket off at that point. One of his hands had come up to his face to fiddle with his mustache, a habit he tended to enact while he was idle. 

“You give me my phone call and I’ll keep my mouth shut for the rest of the night,” Sam continued, ignoring the deputy’s comment. 

“Not happening, Sam.” Deputy Russell’s voice was stern, the words a finality. 

“I’ll praise the flag-”

“Nope.” 

“I’ll kiss your badge-” 

“No.”

“I’ll change my fucking faith-”

“Nice try.”

“Man, why?? Why the hell won’t you let me call anybody??” Sam whined, going so far as to stomp his foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Though, to be fair to the toddlers, they sounded far more mature than Sam just had. 

“Because,” the deputy began slowly, his patience already wearing thin, “Sheriff Langston said so.” 

With another frustrated stomp of his foot, Sam groaned petulantly. It wasn’t fair! He always got his phone call and all of the sudden they just cut him off??

“That’s not a valid reason and you know it, Alex!” 

“It is fair.” 

“How?? ‘Because I said so’ is the answer you give to a child!” 

“Well,” the deputy leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together as he rested his elbows on his knees, “maybe if you started to act like an adult, I’ll treat you like one.” 

Sam groaned in frustration, hitting his head on one of the bars in front of him. 

“You know I’m just going to keep asking until I get what I want.” It was very much a threat thinly veiled as a promise. 

“Oh, I know.” The deputy turned his attention away from his prisoner and onto a book he just pulled out of one of the desk drawers. Sam only got a glimpse of the cover and in his drunken state it took him a lot longer to process the two word title: Good Omens. 

Well, if Sam was anything, he was a man of his word.

Taking a deep breath, Sam began singing. “Baby shark, doo-doo-do-doo-doo-doo…”

This went on for about twenty minutes - Sam singing Baby Shark on loop - and he had to admit he was impressed. The deputy had put up a pretty good resistance, but Sam was nothing if not a stubborn bastard. 

“FINE!! YOU WIN!!” Russell yelled, his hands unclamping from his ears to ball into fists onto the desk. 

Sam ceased his singing, a victorious smile spreading across his lips. It didn’t fall in the slightest as he was yanked out of the cell and put back in handcuffs. 

The deputy maneuvered the criminal towards the payphone that hung on the far wall of the precinct. It was an ancient thing, probably having not been replaced since the mid 70s. There were marks all over it in multiple colors of Sharpie, more than a few of them cursing out the police. Gouges and scratches littered the once proud, shiny, black plastic. A seat was placed just to the left of it, equally as trashed as the payphone itself. 

Before Sam was set down in the seat, Deputy Russell removed a cuff off one of Sam’s wrists before moving his arms from behind his back to in front of him. He then snapped the cuff onto the arm of the chair after Sam sat in the dirty and ripped upholstery. 

With his hand not holding the receiver, Russell snagged a quarter off one of the nearby desks and slid it into the coin slot. His finger poised to enter the number into the rotary. 

“Who am I calling,” the officer tiredly asked, his head turning towards Sam as he brought the receiver to his ear. 

“Daniel Jean Louise Marie Wagner, please and thank you,” Sammy answered, flashing a superficially sweet smile at the deputy. 

“I don’t even know why I asked,” Alexander Russell muttered under his breath. He didn’t even need to access a computer to enter the number, having it memorized just from the sheer amount of times Sam has made Daniel his emergency phone call. 

When it began ringing, he handed the phone off to Sam. He went to grab it with his cuffed hand at first, then made the quick adjustment to reach with his free hand. 

It rang for a lot longer than Sam had hoped. He just about gave up and believed that it would go to voicemail when the line went quiet… then a brief amount of rustling on the other end. 

“....Hello?” a bleary voice croaked out; Daniel’s voice. 

“Daniel! Danny, baby, so uh… yeah…” 

Sam hadn’t thought Daniel would actually respond so he had no idea what to say. 

“Right, so I’m at the county lockup and-” 

“Oh, for FUCKS-” 

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

Crestfallen, Sam slowly let the phone drop from his ear. His mouth fell agape as he felt his hand fall into his lap. He couldn’t believe it. After all that… 

“What happened?” Russell asked, his stern demeanor softening slightly at the sight of his favorite troublemaker so dejected. 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. Well, there was a sound, but it sounded like if you scuffed your shoe against a hardwood floor. So hardly word material. 

“Did he hang up on you?” 

All Sam could do was nod. He finally snapped his mouth shut, forcing himself to act like a human again. He slammed the receiver back onto its hook so hard it caused the bell inside the phone to jingle. 

“Damn. That’s… That’s wrong. Son, why do you do this to yourself?” 

It was a good question. Why did he continue to ruin his life for a man who clearly wanted nothing to do with him? 

Sam didn’t respond. He just sullenly gazed down at the wretched linoleum as if it were to blame for Sam’s pathetic love life. Stupid fucking tile floor. 

“Well, I can’t let you stay there. Let’s get you up.” Russell didn’t even bother to put the cuffs back on Sam. He knew the kid was too broken to try anything, not to mention stumbling drunk. 

When Sam was back in his holding cell, all he did was sulk. He laid down on the uncomfortable and scratchy cot that was stuffed into the corner with his back against the wall. He wanted to get some rest, but every time he closed his eyes it felt like he was in a washing machine with the spin cycle on high. So he just let his head rest against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. 

Deputy Russell made a few attempts at conversation, but Sam would only respond in these two word sentences. He wasn’t in the mood, frankly. He felt like an ass, but that happened more often than not these days. The pain would metastasize when the sun would peek over the horizon, leech into all of his bones and burn inside him with glowing shame and embarrassment for his actions the past night. 

But that’s tomorrow. 

Tonight was reserved for wallowing in his self pity and-

“Samuel?” It wasn’t Russell that asked, but Alice Langston. 

The man in question snapped his eyes open and whipped his head forward. He moved too fast, his stomach churning and making him have to press his hand into it to keep the nausea at bay. 

“Yeah,” he weakly responded, his eyes pinching shut to stop the room from spinning. 

The cell door opened. That made Sam crack his eyes open. 

Staring back at him with a rage and fury that could rival only the wrath of God Herself was none other than the man he wanted to see most in the entire world. 

“Daniel,” Sam sighed, a smile spreading so wide across his face that he started to feel his cheeks hurt. 

The frown on Danny���s face deepened and that’s when Sam noticed the dark bruises underneath his sunken eyes. He hadn’t slept. Or, rather, he had slept, but it was interrupted. The scowl on his face aged him about five years. Or maybe it had just been so long since the last time he’d seen Daniel. He wore a pair of ratty gray sweats, a maize and blue sweatshirt he got from his alma mater. He also had on a black rain jacket that was covered in droplets, grass sticking to his converse. So, it was still raining. That was also evident by the few strands of his curls that stuck to his forehead that had fallen out of the bun he had hastily thrown up. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, his shoulders tensed as his eyes bore into Sam’s very soul.

He’d never seen a more gorgeous sight in his whole life.

“You’re here.” 

Daniel didn’t speak, just glared at him before turning on his heel and walking towards the front door. Sam, dumbfounded and a bit star struck, swung his gaze back and forth between the two officers of the law standing at the door to his cell. 

“Your bond has been paid; you’re free to leave,” Langston informed him. Her voice was soft - well, soft for her. 

Sam’s smile somehow brightened, doing the impossible. He jumped off the cot (having to rest his hand against the wall for a second to let his vision stop spinning) and followed after Danny. 

“Daniel, wait,” he called as he tried his best to run after Danny, the guy having the advantage of both sobriety and longer legs. Damn him and his nice legs. 

The man halted in his spot, his back ram-rod straight. Sam was close enough to hear the heavy sigh he let out as he did stop. 

“Why did you… What are you doing here?” 

Danny swiveled his head towards Sam, that death glare probably permanently fixed in Daniel's eyes as they beheld Sam. It made Sam stagger back a few steps, swallow down any words he might’ve had on his tongue. 

“You will keep your mouth shut for the rest of the night, you understand me?” Daniel’s voice was cold, his finger pointed at Sam with an intense look fixed towards him. 

Sam gulped. There was a mix of several emotions swirling around inside him that he was far too drunk to parse out. Despite that, he nodded his head and flashed a nervous smile. 

As he turned away and made for the door, Sam swore he saw Danny’s face soften for a fraction of a second. It was enough. 

For the rest of the ride, Sam couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Daniel would act cold towards him all he’d like, but his actions spoke volumes louder than the message he was trying to convey to Sam. 

It was a start. And that was enough for Sam. 

+++

Taglist: @doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensGateDaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @Gabyvanfleet @Sarakay-gvf @Mamalikes-gvf @josh-iamyour-mama @st4rdust-ch0rds @pr41sethemoon @fallonfatality @earthlysorrows @jessicafg03 @rossy1080 @hippievanfleet @spark-my-nature @hayley1623 @schleeble @gretavanflipflop @candycigsonacolortv

[ultimateaclrecovery]

So the boy did end up asking me if I wanted to come to Italy with him. His family is going in may and he’s been that for several months but never made it clear if he would want me to come or not (his mom specifically said I was invited over thanksgiving). And then finally last week he asked if I wanted to join him.

I said I would have to see due to work. My team is only three people, plus one in training and one is already gone for most may so I had to check and see about coverage and making sure we could have two people out of the country at the same time. But he seemed to take it has a hard no. Bought his flights and started booking things but then would like show me his family Airbnb? And he’s going before he’s family for extra time and I’m still not sure if he’d want me to join just him or him and his family.

We then had this exchange

Which was especially annoying because he makes such a big deal about going for long enough to make the flight worth it. And had asked me after Japan about how he bet I wished I was there for longer. After I only joined him for half when he specifically only asked if I wanted to join for part.

And with the initially suggested dates it’s still not clear if he really wants me to join for the part with his family too. And like if you don’t could you just say so? Like I get that that’s kind of a hard thing to say and he might be kind of on the fence about it himself, but like I am asking this question of you point blank. And if there’s things being booked than the number of people going matters so you can just say that to.

I’ve also been feeling kind of wishy washy about the relationship as a whole lately but I’m unsure if that’s really the relationship or just general January SAD. Or just like that new relationship energy wearing off so it feels less fun in comparison. Like everything is fine but also boring and I keep getting my feelings hurt over dumb shit and crying over nothing, but nothing related to him. And I’m just not sure if I’m having enough fun to balance out the random crying. And yea everyone says relationships are hard and there’s nothing bad about it, but like why bother being in a relationship and putting in the work when I could just be single and not do that. Like is weekly sex and twice weekly dates really worth all this? And they say you’re supposed to date your best friend, and even after a year I don’t think I’d say that. He’s my best male friend for sure but that’s hardly a high bar. And idk it feels like it’s mostly a me thing and I don’t want to throw away a good thing just because I’m bored or am having unrealistic expectations of relationships. But I also keep questioning if I would be happier single. But maybe this is just the inner work required to be happy in a relationship and just because it’s not all sunshine and rainbows doesn’t mean it’s bad. But I also can’t keep randomly crying.

And then there’s the fact that I’ve already been to Italy. And while it would be fun to go again in some ways I’d rather go somewhere else. Like there’s a horseback riding trail in Portugal that I’ve been looking at for years and I could do that instead in October. But probably not both as I do not have unlimited money or vacation time. But he is really nice to travel with and Italy would be awesome. I last went in high school so it would be very different.

[issybettyx]

TOMMY AU IDK WHAT TO NAME IT

This is possibly the strangest, most out of pocket au i’ve ever thought of, so enjoy? Ig?

Tw’s: near-death experience, child abandonment reference

———

Tommy’s life was simple. Every day was routine, it had been since he was 14.

Wake up at 7am, shower, eat breakfast, brush teeth, change into day clothes, leave the house, go to work, go home, catch up on homework and missed school work, eat dinner, sleep.

Repeat.

Every day.

Tommy was 19 when that routine was broken.

It wasn’t a special day by any means, it was a Thursday in the heigh of Autumn; there was a soft breeze carrying over the city, but Tommy had grown used to it, letting it nip at the tips of his ears without a second thought.

The journey home was a route he knew well, it was a long one but one he could do even if his heart stopped beating.

Tommy had moved into the apartment when he was 14, he got a job using his fake ID. His independence was hardly ever challenged, but as a child he had always been underestimated from a very young age. His first job was at the cinema, he shovelled popcorn for two years before deciding he needed something new, something exciting, to change up the routine a little.

That’s how, when he was 16, he got a job as a private detective. The fake ID kept the same birthday, meaning they all believed he was 18, still drastically too young to be doing such a thing. But Tommy had a knack for discovering the undiscoverable, for noticing the smallest details most didn’t pick up on, and it made him one of the best in the business within his first year working.

Working as a private detective for three years was what made routine worth it. Sometimes what he found would be so shocking and world-rocking that he needed a constant to fall back on. Maybe it was stupid, to value something so simple and boring, but it was his, and that was enough.

So, aged 19 in the middle of autumn, when Tommy was taking the same route home as usual, he was extremely shocked to find the walk so eventful.

It started with rain. The rain turned to the thunder, and the thunder meant lightning.

It wasn’t anything unusual, it stormed several times beforehand, it wasn’t an issue.

What was an issue, however, was the tree that got struck and fell not a metre in front of him.

Crowds immediately ran over, blocking his usual path.

A detour it was.

So, Tommy took his usual detour, keep an extra ear out for the lightning in case it decided to stop him in his tracks again.

However, the next thing that confused him wasn’t lightning, but an annoyed muttering, a deep voice echoing around the streets that passerby’s didn’t even acknowledge. At first, Tommy thought he was going insane, not pausing his footsteps as he strained his ears to hear more.

‘We’ve waited years, Phil,’ they complained, and Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth to make sure he didn’t scream for help. No one else was hearing it, he was probably going insane. ‘Years and nothing, Wilbur is getting impatient, we have to look ourselves.’

I’m just insane, Tommy reminded himself, no matter how horrible it made him feel. Lightning struck again, and the voice was gone with the next roll of thunder.

The third thing was how Tommy almost tripped face first into the pavement, and not by stumbling over his own feet. Rather he stumbled over a briefcase.

When he turned around to look at it, the leather hadn’t been soaked by the rain yet, almost as if it had just been placed there. Something in the back of his head told Tommy to grab it, to hold the handle and take it home to check it’s contents.

It was a terrible idea, Tommy knew it was a horrendous idea as he stared at it longer, the rain beating down heavily on his shoulders as the leather briefcase started to soak. “Fuck it.” Tommy muttered, picking himself up and gripping the briefcase handle.

The rest of the walk home was thankfully peaceful, disregarding the noises of the storm. Tommy stumbled for his keys, eventually finding them and twisting them in the lock, pushing open the door and immediately slamming it the moment he got inside.

Not bothering to lock it behind him, Tommy made his way into his living room, shrugging off his coat and discarding it on the sofa behind him. The briefcase was placed in front of him, and he hesitated for a moment, running his fingers over the golden clasps in thought.

Whatever the fuck that walk home was, Tommy wasn’t sure.

First almost dying, then hearing someone talking, and then finding a perfectly dry briefcase in the pouring rain.

Nothing about the situation felt right. In fact, it felt almost set up, and anyone smarter would’ve thrown out the case and gone to sleep to forget all about it.

But Tommy liked knowing the facts.

He liked knowing what others couldn’t see, or were too scared to realise.

So, even though logic told him to leave it, to forget about it and return to the routine and work on his school work, his mind told him to open it.

One final time, his fingers ran over the clasps, before he finally pushed them open, lifting it open-

Everything went black.

-

“You can’t possibly think going down there is a good idea.” Tommy heard a muffled voice whisper, clearly being in a room over. Taking a moment to himself, Tommy groaned, blinking his eyes open and propping himself up.

Wherever he was, it definitely wasn’t his apartment.

The walls were a dark green, spruce logs placed vertically on the walls to keep the roof in place, the roof itself being a dark grey. He was sitting on a rug of some kind, it being soft to the touch, but when he looked at the floor most of it was wooden slabs placed perfectly to fit the room.

A sofa was to his left, the same shade as the walls, and a coffee table was over the rug on his right, also spruce.

Wherever he was, they knew interior design well.

“I don’t see the issue with it, personally.” A deeper voice responded, a familiar deeper voice. Tommy paused for a moment, trying to figure out where he recognised it from.

“Of course you don’t see an issue with it, you never see an issue with anything, that’s how we got into this situation in the first place!” The first voice responded, a low chuckle following that only seemed to annoy them more. “I am done, we’re done, this is ending now.” Footsteps rang out, and Tommy had enough sense to force himself to his feet, wiping any dust off his dry clothes.

A door swung open, a door that wasn’t there before, and a blonde man stormed out, his hair tied back into a low ponytail. One hand was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut as he let out a long breath. His other hand rested in his pockets, his trousers being a lighter green than the walls but only carrying half way down his calfs, bandages covering the rest of his legs. His top was simple white, loose and tucked into his trousers.

A pair of midnight black wings sat on his back, and it was really the only thing off about him, well par one other small detail.

A simple necklace sat on his chest, a red heart pendant that sat perfectly over where Tommy knew a human heart was.

And then, his hand moved from his face and his eyes blinked open, a similar shade of blue to Tommy’s own. They looked lazily ahead for a moment, flickering as he clearly thought of something.

And he clearly didn’t know Tommy was just stood in his living room.

Maybe he should say something?

“Uh,” he started, his head immediately snapping towards him. “Where the fuck am I?”

He simply stared for a moment, mouth agape as he stared directly at him.

“Techno.” The man called, not taking his eyes from Tommy as if he worried he’d disappear (it didn’t seem entirely impossible, considering the days events).

Another man walked through the door, pink hair braided with two strands over his face. Instead of sky blue irises, this man’s were a bright red, and it would he intimidating if not for the fact he was wearing a black hoodie and jeans. It seemed he was pulled away from reading too, a pair of glasses resting over his chest, being attached by a chain that kept them from falling on the floor.

“Oh.” Was all he said, his deep voice echoing in Tommy’s head almost tauntingly. He knew it, where did he know it from?

Oh wait.

“So you’re the guy I heard talking earlier.” Tommy said triumphantly, letting a smirk onto his face.

“I- uh.” Techno started, but the blonde man shot him a harsh glare that clearly made him shut up.

Another door opened on the opposite side of the room (where were all these doors coming from?) that made all three avert their gaze.

“Techno I got to chapter 8 on that story you recommended me, why the fuck would-“ the man cut himself off as he stared at Tommy, an equally as shocked look on his face as the other three. This man seemed a little different than the other two.

There was nothing remotely intimidating about him. From the way he stood, to his messy brown hair or warm brown eyes, his yellow jumper and black trousers, Tommy didn’t find any reason to find him remotely scary. With Techno’s red eyes and the blonde’s heart pendant, Tommy felt hesitant.

With this new person? Tommy’s heart didn’t skip a single beat.

A silence overtook the room, and Tommy felt uncomfortable about the fact they were all looking at him.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” He scoffed, placing his hands in his pockets as he looked to the brunette for help, only seeing furrowed brows and squinted eyes.

“Mate how the fuck did you get in here?” The blonde asked, his words without malice and simply with pure confusion, possibly even an ounce of wonder. Either way, Tommy continued to smile.

“Well, long story short I almost died, had to take a detour, tripped over a briefcase, and then-“

“A briefcase?” The brunette asked slowly, something like hope in his raised shoulders.

“Yeah, this leather briefcase with gold on,” Tommy commented offhandedly, noticing how the blonde looked at Techno with a smile, “Anyway I took it home because it was proper weird, and then I just passed out and woke up here.” Silence met him again, and so Tommy continued. “So which one is Phil and which one is Wilbur?”

“How do you know our names?” Phil asked skeptically, and Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Techno said them whilst his voice was echoing in my ear, that was very freaky by the way.” Tommy explained, and the brunette huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m Wilbur.” He spoke up, not daring to move as he smiled.

“Don’t you wanna know where you are?” Phil (apparently) asked, looking between Tommy and Techno, the latter seemingly stuck in a strange state of shocked silence.

“Well the fact I don’t know is good enough for me, but sure, it would be great to know.” He replied, giving the man a toothy grin. But his hesitance didn’t go away, and Phil stuttered several times before speaking again.

“You’re in headquarters.”

“Headquarters of what?”

“No. Headquarters. The headquarters.” Phil tried, and that only confused Tommy more, looking to Wilbur for help.

“It’s basically the place where everyone who controls the milky-way galaxy lives.” Techno explained oh so helpfully, and this time Tommy felt himself fall silent. “No one from outside has been here for… well millennials.”

“So,” Tommy paused, pressing a hand over his mouth before falling onto the sofa, “So you’re kind of like god?”

“Well, us three look over Earth, make sure it operates-“

“You’re God then.”

“We make sure no species dies out if we can help it, we keep the lava boiling and the glaciers frozen-“

“You’re God, you’ve told me this.”

“This is getting no where.” Phil sighed eventually, tired of being interrupted as he looked to the other two for help, both of which were terribly masking their need to laugh.

“God is a societal construct,” Techno started, folding his hands in front of him. “God is said to have created Earth and created humanity, God punishes those who do wrong and brings luck to those who deserve it. All we do is create the planet and make sure it’s all in check, not just humans.”

“… right.” Tommy replied, only understanding partially but not wanting to destroy any remaining braincells he had left. “So why am I here?”

Phil and Techno exchanged a glance, but it was Wilbur who made the first move, walking across the room and sitting down next to him, folding his arms in his lap as he looked at Tommy, a faraway hope present in his eyes. It was almost painful, but Tommy couldn’t find himself able to look away.

“There’s an issue, with Earth.” Wilbur started, not taking his eyes away from Tommy’s as the boy nodded. “So a few decades ago we sent down a signal to find someone to help find the problem so we can repair it.” He paused, looking up at Phil who Tommy saw nod in the corner of his eye, and the brunette looked back at him, a small tugging at his lips. “It seems the universe finally chose the perfect candidate.”

Now, Tommy had seen and heard a lot of things in his life.

He’d seen kids be cast aside for their intelligence, as was as be paraded on national television to earn a few quid.

He’d seen murder scenes, blood littering the walls as all the detectives kept an extremely close eye on all the evidence.

He’d heard his parents talking about him behind his back, talking about how they could abandon him and not have to pay extra money to keep him alive. He’d left before they had the chance to.

But to hear a God (what else was he meant to call them?) tell him he was chosen to discover the ‘issue’ with Earth? Yeah that wasn’t entirely what he expected to hear on a random Thursday afternoon.

“How do you know there’s an issue?” Tommy decided to ask first. It was how he usually did his jobs; find the reason for being called before finding the evidence for or against it. A starting point was always handy.

“Earth is drifting away from the galaxy,” Techno explained, and Tommy wanted to kick himself for opening that stupid briefcase. “The workers from Mars reported how it had moved so far off course they couldn’t see it from the surface anymore.”

“But we would know if that happened, NASA would alert the government if Earth was moving out of orbit.” Tommy affirmed, but Techno simply shook his head.

“Humans are very strange beings, why do you have people controlling your every move and the information they deem you can obtain?” Techno groaned, falling onto the sofa beside Wilbur with a frown. “Why not just all work together, you know? War is stupid, you just kill each other before someone gives up. And don’t even get me started on orphans.”

“Hey don’t talk bad about us, we practically raised ourselves.” Tommy spat back, Wilbur laughing at the comment as Techno’s eyes went wide, stuttering for a response. Tommy only realised Phil was moving to sit next to him because of his impeccable observation skills, turning his head to the man (god?), his pitch black wings pulled close to his back to avoid them growing uncomfortable.

“You don’t need to help us.” Phil told him, resting his hands on the back of Tommy’s own. It was weirdly comforting, and he let himself smile at the gesture. “You’re just a kid after-all, you have a life to get back to, don’t let this hold you back.”

Honestly, Tommy was many things.

He was handsome, he was intelligent, he was independent.

A kid was something he’d never even gotten the chance to be.

In reality, he knew he had no choice in this, that he kind of had to fix whatever issue this was. But he also wasn’t entirely upset about that.

If he had to choose between staying in headquarters with these three strange people, or going back to the routine he had back at home, Tommy knew he would choose the former no matter what.

Something about hearing Wilbur’s laughter and listening to Techno’s complaints and feeling Phil’s hands rest on top of his own just felt right.

To turn this down would be as insane as opening the briefcase that brought him there.

“If I stay there’s no going back right?” Tommy asked slowly, and a sad smile from Phil confirmed his suspicions. “Then let’s get going shall we?”

———

Me me me when me when Tommy meet strange god people? :0 :D

Tommy: just going about his day having a good ol time

Also Tommy: get’s teleported to the Milk-Way Galaxy headquarters

Idek how my brain even invented this au, it took me like an hour and a half to write but I genuinely kinda love it

Anyways Tommy saves the Earth in exactly 5 hours and 34 minutes, SBI are like ‘bruh we waited decades just for this CHILD to figure it out so quickly?’ And fix it, and Tommy turns immortal and gains a family

Tubbo and Ranboo look over Mars, so this au would have benchtrio, because obviously why wouldn’t it?

Anyways, au Tommy <3

(Go check out the first chapter of my pirate fic if you enjoyed this :D https://archiveofourown.org/works/46295245/chapters/116553715)

[glamoureddreamer]

Killer Kevin

Spooky month (Kevin)

Warnings: Major character death, blood/gore mention, killing, descriptions of violence, detail descriptions of corpses, vomiting, heavy angst, dark themes, child deaths, cannibalism, forced cannibalism, torture, (please let me know if I’ve missed anything)

If you or a loved one is in need of help in anyway please get help from one of the multiple help hotlines. You matter and you deserve help. Thank you everyone, have a great day and know it gets better <3

Kevin sighs resting his head on his hand. It had only been three minutes on his shift and he could already see the little monsters running up to him.

He had asked one of his few, few coworkers once if they had been visited by the spooky month freaks. And apparently, they only visit him.

They run inside and shove their faces into the glass, rubbing their probably dirty nasty fingers against the glass.

He was going to have to clean it again…

“What do you kids want?” They pull their faces away from the glass. Their eyes light up.

“Three candy canes please!” Kevin looks at both of them confused. Slightly worried and annoyed, he didn’t want to deal with a third one of them.

“Where’s the third one?” Suddenly a monster appears behind them.

Kevin’s jaw drops his eyes widen. He shakily grabs their candy canes and hands them to Skid and Pump.

He watches them yell a thank you as they walk out with their friend.

Once they're out of sight Kevin grabs the ring for service sign and sets it up on the counter.

Before he slides down behind the counter having a panic attack.

~~~

Today had been a peaceful night, well as peaceful as it could be when you work at a candy store. Where a bunch of children come in yelling and screaming that they want this or they want that, while their parent does nothing.

Kevin hums to himself drumming his fingers on his face.

He glances up hearing the bell, he sits up trying to act like he wanted to keep this job other than for his pay.

“Hello-Oh.” He says looking over Skid and Pump. They looked like they had got beaten up.

“What happened to you two?” They didn’t answer him and asked for their free candy canes.

‘Of course just like little kids to be greedy.’ Yet Kevin forced himself to be kind to them, hoping that they would grow up to be okay adults.

“I’m sorry kids but you only get those on Halloween.” They look down at the ground with small aws of sadness. Yet they didn’t even try to walk out after being told no, Kevin huffs getting annoyed just by their presence.

“Fine fine.” He says waving them off as he grabs their candies.

“Whatever makes you leave the fastest.” He mumbles.

“But you two owe me okay?” The kids cheer as Kevin hands over their candies.

“Thank you, Kevin!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot!” Pump yells grabbing a package from his back pocket. He sets it up on the counter with much difficulty since he was so short. Kevin’s eyes widen as he looks at the package.

This was not real… he was dreaming surely…

“What- What is this?”

“It’s sugar from the candy dealer!” Pump answers with a smile as if nothing was wrong with this.

“Let’s go watch Tv!” Skid yells pulling Pump away. Kevin’s breathing picks up as fear fills his body.

“What do you mean sugar?! What candy dealer?!”

But the kids were already gone, Kevin stares at the package.

This could not be real, he takes a deep breath reminding himself what his therapist was teaching him.

Just as he went to move the package he heard the bell ding, signaling that someone else had entered the store.

He looks up a bit fearful and he felt his heart stop. They were cops.

~~~

Today had been only the best fucking day. 

Kids had stolen candy so obviously, he tried to stop them.

Only for him to make it worse and accidentally hit a woman instead, she bitched to his boss and his boss bitched at him. When it was an accident!

Then the cops showed up telling him to give a random kid this doll, which was a fucking joke. 

It was hardly his job to do that he was only paid to give people candy when they paid for it.

Not to babysit some dumb doll. The doll had come to life and stabbed him.

He sits on the floor, thinking about how shit his day had been.

He looks over his cut, thankfully the knife wasn’t that big. He probably didn’t have to go to the hospital and probably didn’t need stitches. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell though.

As if god himself was saying fuck you to Kevin, Skid and Pump walk through the doors.

They immediately notice Kevin on the ground and run towards him asking if he was okay and what happened.

Pump grabs one of the candy bandaids that they sell. He puts the fake bandage on Kevin. 

Kevin smiles looking at the stab wound and then at the both of them.

“Thanks so much, dude.” Sure it was candy and in fact, that was probably going to give him an infection especially since Pump licked it, though it was the thought that counts he supposed.

“Listen Kevin we need your help… we lost our doll-“

Kevin’s eyes widen as memories of what just happened flashed through his mind. He felt the anger boiling under his skin.

Rage bubbles to the surface, and before he could even think about what he was about to do he snaps.

“The doll I threw in the back WAS YOURS?!” 

The kids completely ignored his anger and thanked him for the help before heading out of the store.

Kevin stares at the ground the anger still burning inside of him.

He slams his hands down onto the floor with a yell of pain and anger.

~~~

The two spooky month freaks walk into the store, carefully. Which stirred emotions up in Kevin, obviously something was up.

“Can we have our candy canes please!?” The kids yell still happily.

Pump seemed to be holding a bag of red liquid. Kevin stares at them for a moment.

“What’s with the bag?” He asks grabbing their candies.

He wished he would’ve kept his mouth shut, he just wanted them gone. Though his curiosity got the better of him.

“It’s fake blood!” Pump shouts, and he jolts the bag. He stumbles some of the fake blood leaks out and onto his hand.

Kevin quickly hands over the candies, rushing them out before they could spill it.

“Okay-okay cool- now go before it spills.” Pump waves him off. “It’s not gonna-“

Skid goes to hand him his candy and ends up knocking the bag onto the floor. The fake blood spills creating a huge mess.

“Oops…Sorry, Kevin.” Skid says, both of the boys look at the older man. His face was red with anger.

He slams his foot onto the ground and points to the door.

“Enough! Get out!“ He yells. The kids apologize again before thanking Kevin for the candy and saying bye.

They leave without looking back and seemingly not caring about the mess. Kevin stares at it for a moment.

He needs them out of his life.

~~~

Kevin had had enough last year of Halloween Skid and Pump came by like they always did. Bringing along a cannibalistic murderer, who had been following them for the whole night. 

Thankfully Kevin wasn’t hurt but his boyfriend was severely injured and was now dealing with the traumas.

What did this have to do with Skid and Pump? His boyfriend had told Kevin that he remembers two kids and then the devil. 

The more he described the night Kevin knew that Skid and Pump not only almost killed him but almost his boyfriend as well.

That was his breaking point.

Kevin had worked long and hard on a project to get rid of them and get away with the crime.

And tonight he was finally putting that plan into motion.

His boyfriend was out with friends, the cops were busy with cult bullshit, and the mother of Skid working, and forget about Pump's family.

He even learned how to loop the security footage from a previous night.

Today he closed early, though he knew that both of the little monsters would still get in. 

Kevin glances at his watch.

3…2…1…And….

The door flies open, of course, they didn’t even read the sign. They run up to the glass like they always do, and yell asking for their candy. 

Oh, they going to get their candy…

Kevin smiles, a hint of madness in his eyes. 

“Skid, Pump! Just the kids I wanted to see!” Pump and Skid smile. “Really?” They ask with happiness.

“Of course, of course! I’ve got a new candy for you two to try! It’s on the house.” Kevin smiles, and the kids cheer.

Kevin bends down pretending to look for it. He fake gasps standing up.

“Oh no! It’s not here I must’ve left it in the back, how about you two come with me?” Skid and Pump grin with nods. They run around the counter and Kevin leads them to the back. 

They ask a million questions about the new candy, annoying Kevin to no end.

He sighs calming his anger, they’ll be gone soon enough.

“I made it myself, and it’s huge.” He grins leading them to the back past a few of the candy-making machines.

He leads them to the corner of the room and stops in front of a few boxes.

“Okay close your eyes, and no peaking.” He tells them.

Skid and Pump both cover their eyes, practically bouncing with excitement. Kevin leans down and from behind the box picks up a pink lollipop.

Amazingly it was real candy, it took him a long time to make this. He was extremely proud of it and couldn’t wait to bash their skulls in with it.

The pink was a bubblegum color, his favorite color actually.

It shined in the light as he raised the heavy sucker above his head.

He grins madly aiming for Pump first, he needed to die first for the fake blood incident.

Kevin swings down practically letting gravity do most of the work. 

Blood splatters across the area, Kevin smiles swearing that he could even see some of Pump's brains in the blood.

The heart-wrenching and stomach-turning sound made Skid's eyes snap open. He stares down at his best friend Pump, who seemingly turned into mush.

The lollipop had shattered some leaving some sweet yummy candy in the top of Pump's skull.

Thankfully the blow killed him instantly. He probably didn’t feel any pain. That’s what Skid hoped anyway.

Skid drops to his knees his shaking hand reaches to touch his friend. He wanted to shake him and beg his best friend to wake up. 

He grabs his best friend's arm petting his hand gently though he pulls his hand back knowing that he was already gone.

Skid’s stomach turns he pukes the candy he had eaten before coming onto the floor. He sobs as he pukes up everything in his stomach until he was only dry heaving.

Skid looks up at Kevin who had pulled the giant lollipop out of his best friend’s corpse and was examining the damage.

Bits of his best friend drips off of the giant weapon.

“W-why?” Skid sobbed out. Kevin smiles and lifts the weapon. Skid holds his arms out in a protective manner, even though he knew it wasn’t going to save him.

“Because I want to be free.” And with that, he swings down onto Skid.

Skid cries out since the weapon nearly shattered on the floor when it went through Pump, but it didn’t kill him immediately.

Skid lays on the ground covered in his own blood and vomit, and his best friend's blood.

His breath was quick he wanted to scream in pain but when he tried nothing happened. He tried to sob out but nothing happened. He twitches trying to move, the pain he felt was indescribable.

Tears leak out of his eyes, he wished that anyone would come and save him. He didn’t want to die, he wanted Pump. He wanted to do the spooky month dance, he wanted anything but this. But none of that was going to happen.

All he could do is stare up at the man who he had once trusted, and get ready to deliver the final blow. Kevin swings down once more, and a piece of the candy shatters breaking into Skid's chest.

The kid's lungs fill with blood as he chokes and sputters out blood onto the floor. Kevin watches as the light in his eyes fade and his chest stops moving.

Both of them were finally dead…

Kevin drops to his knees letting go of the stick of his weapon. He throws his arms up in the air and cheers, he cries with happiness.

“FINALLY!” He screamed. He drops his arms and looks back at the mangled bodies of the spooky month kids.

He smiles, originally he just planned on cutting them up and throwing them in bags.

The cops were probably dumb enough not to suspect him and think it was another killer.

Though he looks at the candy sticking out of their bodies. He grabs his weapon and pulls the lollipop end close to his face. He licks some of the blood off the sucker, and he grins.

They tasted sweet, like candy even… He looks at one of the candy-making machines. With a wicked smile, he drags both of their bodies to the machine.

Fortunately enough his boyfriend watched a lot of horror movies and that included serial killer documentaries. He had watched one episode where a man was only caught because some of his victim's clothes were still in the food.

So he strips Skid and Pump of their clothes and fed them to the machine.

While they were being made into candy he cleans up the mess. He brings the mop bucket out and cleans up the blood and vomit then puts it away when he’s done. 

Thankfully he thought ahead and brought a pair of clean clothes. He switches into the clothes and gathers all the evidence into a trash bag. He throws it into the mix of candies that had gone bad and he had to throw away anyway.

No one would ever know.

He smiles to himself humming a tune as he throws the trash away. He closes the lid and jumps when he sees a familiar face appear next to him.

“Ah-Lila you scared me.” He breathlessly chuckles. Lila gives a small smile.

“Sorry-sorry I didn’t mean to scare you-“ Kevin cuts her off.

“You look worried, is everything okay?” Kevin asked in a sweet tone as if he didn’t just brutally murder two innocent children.

“No…I-…I can’t find Skid, and I’ve been over to Pumps family and they haven’t seen him either.” Her voice broke and she started to cry into her hands.

Kevin forced his smile away and sets a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m sure they’re just being boys. Have you spoken to the police yet?” She nods her head. Kevin smiles warmly at her.

“Then I’m sure it’ll be okay, they’re great officers I’ve met them a few times. I’m sure they’ll find Skid and Pump.” Lila smiles and wipes the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

“Thank you, Kevin.” He smiles and pulls her into a hug, she hugs back. After a moment he pulls away.

“Hey, you know what cheers me and my boyfriend up? Some candy, I’ve just made a new batch of candy if you want to try some.” 

Lila smiles and nods. “Yeah, do you mind if I take some extra for Skid?” 

Kevin chuckles. “Of course!”

He leads her into the back room, everything from less than an hour ago had been cleaned up. He pulls up a box of unopened candy for Lila to sit on while the candy finishes.

Before he could pull up a box himself there was a small chime from the machine, the candy had just gotten done.

He pulls out the tray and grabs the candy, it was a cherry red color. He puts generous-sized portions into two bags, both for Lila.

“Here you are.” He smiles giving her the bags. Lila smiles and thanks him.

Kevin pulls up a seat in front of her. He chuckles and signals for her to try the candy. She giggles and opens the bag, she grabs a small handful.

Kevin leans forward in his seat as he watched her pop a few candies into her mouth. She chews up the candy, which little did she know was her son.

“It tastes great!” She smiles. “It’s kinda salty in a way- almost like a salted caramel.”

Kevin smiles. “I thought it was a little strong though, I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah! Skid will love this!” Kevin chuckles looking at the candy.

“Yeah, yeah he would, wouldn’t he?”

[heyitsmeyuhh]

The Hardest Part (Jean Kirschtein x Reader)

AN: Hi all, sorry I’ve been MIA; school has been crazy, and I haven’t had hardly any time to work on creative things. I’m still working on Blood and Wine I promise, and eventually I’ll get around to Midnight City. I just wanted to sit down and bust this little short story out because I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently and I didn’t want to lose it. Let me know how you like it (or don’t like it)! I know its cheesy and not super realistic but its fiction, so I did it anyway haha.

Song Inspo: I Don’t Love You / Cancer (both by My Chemical Romance)

WC: ~ 4.7K

Content: Angst, mutual pining.

…

February 4th, 2016

I don’t love you, like I did, yesterday.

His guitar solo was always the highlight of the set (in his so humble opinion). Every person in the building was looking straight at him. Most of the fans were either dancing or gazing at him with lusty eyes. A few men around the periphery were glaring at him like they were jealous that their girlfriends were drooling over the band members. One couple in the stands were making out vigorously. His chest swelled with exhilaration.

And when he looked over, she was watching him, like she always was during his solo. His heart skipped a little and he played with a little more intensity.

She was breathtaking; he had no idea how he hadn’t always seen it. She had always been “just a friend” through the years of knowing each other; she’d come over to his place and they would hang out for hours working on sets, watching the latest episodes of whatever show they were fixated on, and just hanging out talking about anything. That isn’t to say he hadn’t fantasized about having sex with her a time or two. However, more than anything, she was a comfort to him, even when she wasn’t trying. On days he was anxious, she would sit with him, sometimes in complete silence. She would sit close to him while watching a movie, so their knees touched or let him sling his legs over her lap just to feel anchored to something. He could fall asleep with his head in her lap, her fingers stroking his hair gently. Other times when he was excited about something, she was the person he always wanted to tell first.

Tonight, the energy from the crowd was intoxicating, and her eyes were there to steady him again. They glowed like fire and if he didn’t know any better, he would think that she was in love with him. He knew she wasn’t, just wishful thinking; it didn’t stop him from imagining them together.

He hadn’t really considered dating her until he had been rejected by the only other woman in the group last December. Mikasa Ackerman, their drummer, was the definition of sultry; she pulled Jean in like she did with every man. But unfortunately, she was head over heels for Eren, their other lead vocalist. Jean couldn’t imagine why. She was gracious about her rejection and she hadn’t let it affect their friendship; she had just always loved Eren, Jean really never had a chance. The first thing he wanted to do was tell Y/n, to sob over a carton of Ben and Jerry’s like they always do watching some soppy romcom, but a nagging feeling told him to keep this one thing to himself. Y/n had asked if he was feeling okay; she always seemed to know when something was up with him no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Instead, he lied and chalked it up to lack of sleep. After moping for a few days, he had gotten over himself. He was more annoyed at pretty boy Eren for getting all the girls than he was about Mikasa passing him over.

Y/n tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and a jolt rocked through Jean’s spine. Nothing Mikasa had ever done was anything like what Y/n could do to him with just that one look. Jean would give up anything for her to look at him like that all the time. He could admit to himself that he had probably always been in love with Y/n deep down; Mikasa really only caught his eye because she was pretty and mysterious. But after the Mikasa situation, he didn’t really feel like threatening another one of his friendships, let alone the best one he had. He’d gotten off easy with Mikasa, but what were the odds of another rejection ending well? He wouldn’t tempt it. Instead, he resigned himself to memorizing every one of Y/n’s glances, savoring every accidental brush of skin, pretending like she was doing it on purpose, imagining what it would be like to hold her up against his chest.

As his solo ended, Y/n shifted her gaze from him and turned back toward her microphone to finish the song. His eyes lingered on her profile and he drank in the striking way the lights illuminated her features. Jean could live with this, for now at least.

---

February 8th, 2016

Y/n was in Jean’s hotel room like she was most nights on tour. Usually, they would be brainstorming ideas on how to make their sets more interactive and entertaining, but tonight they were settling in for a day off tomorrow. Both were drinking a beer, Y/n sitting at the head of the bed and Jean lying on his side, head toward the TV. He was absentmindedly drawing little shapes along her leg with his hands. Y/n couldn’t help but study those hands, veins tracing their way across the back of his hand like rivers. The skin where he traced tingled and burned, but she stayed as still as possible, as if he were a wild animal that she would scare off if she even moved an inch. His eyes had a distant look and his eyebrows scrunched up like they did when he was chewing on a deep idea.  

She had made the decision to tell Jean tonight about how she felt and let the cards fall where they may. Currently, however, she was distracted with the lines of his shoulders as he leaned on his elbow. His shirt was off, and she could see every muscle ripple as he shifted positions, shoulder tattoos on full display, winding down the natural lines in his arms. She made a mental note not to start drooling yet.

“Jean?”

“Yeah?” He snapped back to the present and looked at her, his golden eyes sparkling in the crappy hotel room lighting.

A wave of apprehension washed over her, and for a moment she chickened out.

“Uh, what do you want to do for dinner?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said sitting up to face her. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know. There was a sushi place down the road that looked kinda good? But I sorta just want to eat in tonight.”

“I’ll call it in and go grab it for us,” Jean decided. He held the ankle he had just been tracing and kissed it before rolling off the bed to grab his phone. Y/n’s heart raced a little, but she regained her composure quickly. Jean had been touchier lately, which gave her the impression that he might like her too, but she couldn’t be sure. If she had her way, he would just ask her himself, so she could save the anxiety she had building up to this.

He brought the phone to his ear and a muffled voice came through on the other end. “The usual?” he asked turning to meet her gaze. Her eyes flickered from his chest back to his eyes and she could feel her cheeks warm a bit. She thought she could see a brief smirk cross his face, but it was gone so fast she couldn’t tell if she had imagined it. Y/n nodded and mouthed a silent thank you as he placed the order. She pretended to turn her attention back to the TV, though Jean’s bare torso was admittedly more interesting than whatever else was on. Once he hung up, he grabbed a shirt and assured Y/n he would be right back.

The minute he left, she let out a breath. She mentally kicked herself for backing down. Her eyes darted to the bedside table where the spare key card lay peeking out of the little check-in folder. She needed a pep talk. She swiped the card from the table and rushed her way over to Mikasa’s room.

Instead Eren answered the door.

“Where’s Mikasa?”

He stood there in some oversized hoodie and gray sweatpants. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, strands of hair around his temples escaping to frame his face. Green eyes pierced her own, but the haze of weed dulled the focus.

“Out. She’s getting her drum set looked at and you know how much of a control freak she is about anyone touching the thing.” He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed casually.

“Shit,” Y/n muttered under her breath. She considered just calling the whole thing off, but she didn’t want to have wasted all that time she spent hyping herself up for this. She may not have the will power to do it again.

“I need a pep talk.” Y/n grabbed Eren’s sleeve and dragged him back into his apartment.

--- Y/n stood breathless in front of the couch, facing the other lead singer in her band.

“Yeah, Jean asked Mikasa out like two months ago. She didn’t tell you?”

The long-haired brunette was looking at her with inquisitive eyes, a lit joint slotted between his fingers. A tightness had formed in her chest like her heart had sunk into her stomach. As a matter of fact, Mikasa hadn’t told her. Quite the opposite actually. Her mind flashed back to a conversation made in hushed tones, the light scent of alcohol on each of their breaths.

“You should just tell him, honestly, or you’re going to be thinking about it forever and nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Plus, I think he might like you.”

Y/n had been basically in love with Jean for like two years now and nothing had happened. Granted nothing happened because she was too afraid to ruin their friendship. She figured that being friends with him and pining over him forever was better than being rejected and ruining the whole relationship and possibly break up the band.

But on New Year’s, she and Mikasa had stolen away during the party to the bathroom, giggling over something that couldn’t have been that funny. Y/n remembered whispering to her, trying to pretend like they hadn’t locked everyone else out of one of the two bathrooms at the house. They had a long conversation and eventually Y/n spilled her guts about her feelings for Jean, but how she couldn’t stand to lose their friendship if her confession went poorly. Drunk confessions were always the most honest; now she realized that she was ignorant to have taken Mikasa’s drunk advice. She had encouraged her whole heartedly to let him know how she felt; after all, Mikasa had made that her resolution too. She was going to kiss Eren at midnight. For some reason, she seemed to have completely omitted this little detail about Jean being in love with her instead.  

“I can’t believe she never told me.” Y/n felt like she needed to sit down. All at once, she was losing the people that were closest to her. Did Mikasa care so little about her that she pushed her into ruining her relationship with Jean? How could Mikasa not have warned her that he wasn’t interested, that he was in love with her instead?

“It was right at the beginning of December. We hadn’t started dating yet and I guess she just told him that she wasn’t interested. Honestly, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal.” Eren took a long drag from the joint and puffed some of the smoke into the air between them casually.

“Yeah.” Y/n said half-heartedly. Suddenly she sagged like someone had slung sandbags over her shoulders. All her nervous energy left her body at once and she slumped into the massive couch next to Eren. She remembered that early December was around the time Jean had gone into his little slump. She did everything she could to try to pull him out but she couldn’t figure out what was going on. He wouldn’t leave his room, he didn’t seem to want to eat, and all he wanted to do was lie around the house. He seemed better after about a week, but now she wondered if he’s been trying to distract himself with her all this time.

“Who was I kidding anyway.”

He leaned forward to look at Y/n’s face. “Oh, shit you really do like him. This wasn’t going to be some quick fuck?” His expression was now serious, his mind combatting the haze from the weed. Y/n nodded dejectedly.

“Damn, I’m sorry you had to find out like that.” he huffed, slouching back into the couch next to her. “Well, Mikasa’s taken. Maybe you could still try talking to him.”

She shook her head silently; she couldn’t form words right now without choking down a sob. Instead, she grabbed the blunt from Eren and took a long drag. He looked at her with worry, she didn’t often partake unless there were special circumstances. Y/n didn’t notice and took a second drag before handing it back to him. She could feel time start to slow around her, and for a moment, this whole situation made her giggle; it wasn’t funny, but it was getting more and more ridiculous in her mind. Eren chuckled beside her, though he had no idea why they were laughing.

After what felt like hours, Y/n stood and made her way back to the door without saying a word. Eren remained on the couch but called over his shoulder.

“Hey.” Y/n paused at the door, looking back to meet his knowing eyes. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” She shut the door silently behind her and she drug her feet all the way back to Jean’s room. Y/n swiped the card lazily, letting herself in and immediately walked straight to the bed and flopped face down.

Minutes later, she was awoken from her half-asleep state to hear someone enter the room behind her. She rolled over languidly to see Jean carrying a bag of takeout in one hand, and a single carton of ice cream in the other. His eyebrows furrowed, but there was a small smirk on his face.

“What have you been up to while I was gone? I haven’t been gone more than 45 minutes.” He chuckled a little and set the food on the desk. Y/n didn’t answer, instead she sat up and stared at his back as he organized dinner across the table.

He’s in love with Mikasa.

“I’m high,” Y/n said obviously. He chuckled again and nodded knowingly. She stood and pulled another chair up to the desk, attempting to recover the happiness she had felt just hours ago and accepting the fact that this was all their relationship would be. Her heart ached dully in her chest as she stole glances of him as he ate, the lines next to his eyes crinkling when he smiled, tongue occasionally darting out to lick his lips. It was all moving in slow motion, her thoughts drifted through her head like molasses. His eyes, caramel in the dim lighting, glided over her smoothly, and the corners of his mouth drew up.

“Are you tired?” He asked softly. Y/n nodded, and Jean stood, leading her to the bed. He pulled back the sheets and she tucked herself underneath. Jean folded the comforter around her and knelt down, face on level with hers.

“Sleep here tonight,” he stated, not asking.

“Okay,” she whispered. She knew she should have gone back to her room. She knew that this would just make everything hard on her in the morning. But at this point, she couldn’t gather the willpower to take care of her future self. She selfishly wanted to pretend just one more night that things were still normal. That things were going to be okay. “Stay with me?”

Jean smiled softly, his eyes droopy with sleep. “Anything for you,” he whispered back, kissing her forehead. He pulled back the sheets again and slid into the sheets next to her, reaching over to click off the lights. She slotted herself under his arm, head against his chest, drifting off to the sound of his rhythmic heartbeat.  

---

April 30th, 2016

The rounded booth they were at was tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, though the din of the room still reverberated around them. Mikasa was sitting next to Eren, her hand on his knee and his arm slung across the back of the bench seat. Y/n sat between her and Jean, with some of the other people from their team filling in the rest. She was attempting to stay involved in the conversation, but she kept drifting back to her own thoughts every few minutes, needing to be called back by someone when she was asked a question.

Since she woke up the morning after she had spoken to (and smoked with) Eren, she tried everything she could to shake her little crush on Jean. She tried focusing on all the weird idiosyncrasies he had, all the gross habits, all the annoying behaviors. The more she looked for these things, however, the more it highlighted the reasons she had fallen for him in the first place. He looked at her and listened when she spoke about things that made her happy or upset. He opened up to her about his dreams and aspirations even when he was embarrassed or bashful about his ideas. He made her laugh until her stomach hurt. And unfortunately, he always seemed to know when something as bothering her, even when she didn’t quite realize it yet.

Because of this, he had been prying her to open up about why she’s been more distant lately, and it broke her heart even more to keep it from him.

But she couldn’t tell him. She could never tell him. Because there was no point; deep down, he wanted someone else.

“Y/n? Did you want to go to that bar after dinner?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, I think I’m just gonna head back to my room actually.”

“Are you feeling alright? You seem really out of it right now,” Armin, their manager asked, concern radiating from his place across the table.

She could really use some of Eren’s weed right now.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ve just had a headache all day.” Y/n gave a feeble smile and looked back at the spot on the table that she had been staring at zoning out a moment ago. She felt a soft touch grace her left knee and she flinched away, glancing up to meet Mikasa’s gaze. She had retracted her hand like she’d been stung and looked at Y/n with concern.

Y/n’s eyes flicked from hers to Eren’s, who had noticed the subtle exchange. He looked to Mikasa and back to Y/n with wide eyes, trying to silently apologize. Y/n was also trying to preserve her relationship with Mikasa as much as possible, but the betrayal was slowly picking away at the edges and she was struggling to maintain her composure. She felt like she had lost two of the people closest to her all at once and keeping her emotions off her face was sapping the energy quicker than she could handle.

Her face got hot as she realized everyone at the table had noticed what just happened. They continued their conversation out of courtesy, but their glances gave them away. Suddenly the air felt thick and she felt the room closing in on her.

“I need to get up,” she whispered to Jean. He scrunched his eyebrows, concerned, and he put his hand on her back trying to be comforting, but she straightened up, avoiding the contact. “I’m just getting a little overwhelmed, I need some air.”

He waved his hand so the others on the bench seat could let her out. He too slid out of the seat and offer her his hand. She took it briefly to pull herself upright and walked swiftly to the door. She pushed it open with her shoulder, stepping out into the brisk night and shivered. Her breath came out shaky, tears threatening to spill over her lashes. She took some deep breaths and swallowed down the lump in her throat; she wouldn’t let them fall, not tonight.

As she was trying to compose herself to go back inside, she heard the soft bell above the door of the restaurant. Lifting her head, she expected to see Jean there to ask her what was up with her again, but instead it was Armin, concern written on his face.

“Hey, are you sick? I can take you home if you need?” he asked worriedly.

“I can’t do this anymore, Armin.”

“It’s okay, I can take you back right now.’ He motioned to pull the keys to the car out of his pocket.

“No, I mean I have to quit the band.”

He froze. They stood there in the cold staring at each other. Y/n thought saying that would feel like the right answer, but instead it just filled her with more anxiety.

“Let’s talk about this in the car.”

They walked to the SUV in silence, closing the doors behind them to seal away the chill.

“What’s going on Y/n?”

“I just can’t do this anymore Armin.” She tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling of the cab, letting the tears roll back away from the brims of her eyes. She told herself she wouldn’t let them fall tonight.

“What can’t you do anymore? I don’t understand.” She was silent, continuing to stare up.

“Y/n I can’t do anything for you if I don’t know what’s happening,” he repeated gently. Y/n took a big sigh and finally turned to face him.

And then she spilled everything, all the thoughts that have been weighing on her since that night nearly three months ago. Every aching moment she spent with Jean, the betrayal she was desperately trying to ignore, and the futility of her pretending like nothing happened. The tears blurred her vision but remained in place. When she finished, there was a thick pause hanging in the air.  

“I see.” He finally broke the silence. “So, you want out after your last show?”

Y/n nodded.

“Okay. We should tell the others . . .”

“No!” Y/n interrupted, “I can’t tell them. If they know, they’ll try to convince me to stay and I don’t think I have the resolve to say no.”

“So you’re just going to disappear after? Just take off and never tell anyone you we’re leaving?”

“I was going to say goodbye at the show,” Y/n replied meekly. Armin sucked in a small breath.

“You’re going to blindside them then? Right there in front of the entire crowd?”

“I’ve been writing this song,” she whispered. “I think I’ve finally finished it. I was going to play it at the show. I can’t give them the opportunity to talk me out of it, and this will be sort of like my swan song to the fans.”

“What am I supposed to tell the media? What am I supposed to tell the band?”

“Once I’m gone you can tell the band whatever you want. Tell them the truth, an elaborate lie, I don’t care. I just want to be able to leave that show and move on with my life.” She rolled her head to look out the passenger side window. Fog was rolling in as the night deepened.

“You don’t feel like you owe them an explanation?”

Y/n took a deep breath, allowing just one tear to roll down her cheek. “I feel like I owe myself some peace.”

---

May 2nd, 2016

The crowd surged and undulated to the sound of the music coming from the stage. Every eye was on them and girls screamed for the attention of every band member. Two sweaty bras had been thrown on the stage already. This was likely the largest and most energetic crowd they had seen all tour. The audience was riled up for their last event of the circuit; the perfect storm to have one of the most memorable shows of their career.

So why was Jean feeling so uneasy?

He was watching her sing just like he had been doing for the past year or so. The crowd was always captivated by her, even with Eren singing by her side; she buzzed with her own vitality that was hard to take your eyes off of.

Recently, though she seemed to have lost a little bit of her liveliness during her sets. The glow had left her skin, though this was imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t looking, anyone who didn’t know her like he did. Something was wrong, but she faked it well. She had been acting weird the last few months, but when he had tried to ask her if anything was bothering her, she just chalked it up to feeling under the weather. He didn’t believe her, but he wouldn’t push the topic further. In hindsight, he wished he had.

His guitar solo was coming up. She finished her line and he stepped up to play. He looked over, expecting for their eyes to meet on cue, but her gaze never left the crowd. Her expression was muted; there was less life in her eyes than there was before. Jean felt his eyebrows furrow slightly; she had never not looked at him, even since she started acting different. He played on without missing a beat, but his eyes never left her, silently begging for her to just glance at him. Panic rose in his throat; something was definitely wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. No one else seemed to notice anything was off and it made every hair on his body stand on end.

As the music faded, Eren thanked the crowd and Jean hit his cue to bow and exit the stage, but instead of walking off behind him, Y/n stepped up to the front of the stage. She spoke slowly into the microphone.

“I actually have a little something I prepared myself planned for one last song.” Y/n finally looked over to him with a small shine gracing the rims of her eyes, smiling halfheartedly. After a little hesitation, Eren and Mikasa stepped across the stage to where Jean was waiting, looking at him questioningly. As if he knew what was going on; he couldn’t get her to open up about anything lately, he wasn’t in on this surprise. She seated herself at the piano.

A slow ballad shuddered from the instrument, her fingers deftly weaving her way through the song. Jean’s eyes never left her as he listened to her tell a story about the dying author saying goodbye to her family. That rising anxiety only sharpened and continued to drag its way through his chest.

Cause’ the hardest part of this, is leaving you.

A cold stab of fear pierced his heart.

He looked to Eren and Mikasa, who hadn’t figured it out yet, confusion thoroughly gracing their faces. They met his eyes, which seemed to confirm all three of their revelations. Jean was frozen in place, looking back to her, breath caught in his throat. He could see now that the glint in her eyes were tears that had escaped her delicate lashes. Jean could feel his own well up in his eyes, but he wiped it away quickly; he was desperate to see every detail of her clearly.

Her beautiful face was strained, and she kept her eyes on the piano. The crowd was oddly silent; not just because they didn’t know the words, but because they were also puzzled about this solo encore. They were enraptured though, every eye and phone camera fixated only on her.

The song came to a head and finally, after holding out all night, she finally gave him that glance he has been feverishly searching for.

Cause’ the hardest part of this, is leaving you.

The song reverberated through the stadium as it faded, and the crowd roared. She held his gaze, sorrow painting her striking features. Jean couldn’t feel his body. It wasn’t until she spoke again that the stadium truly understood what that song meant. She grabbed the mic and turned to face them.

“Thank you all for all the support and the love. Tonight, was my last show. I love you all.” Her voice was strained, but she held it together enough to give a wave as she left the stage. Jean, Eren, and Mikasa stood there dumbfounded as the lights dimmed and the curtain rolled down from the rafters.

Her figure disappeared behind the corner of the stage.

Jean was frozen. I’m too late.

[birdwatching-goesbothways]

Tuesday

The knock rings jarringly through the silence, and Jim feels increasingly uncomfortable.

His eyes wander from the door in front of him (heavy, wooden, sturdy like it was made to keep someone out - or in) to the mansion looming above him with a threatening aura. The dark windows look like eyes, watching him, full of judgement.

Then again, that part is probably just his subconscious scolding him for his most recent questionable decision, using his over-reactive imagination to properly get the message across.

He’s been to Penguins mansion often enough, and never felt watched by anything other than the hosts surprisingly sharp eyes.

The door in front of him opens a crack, before swinging open fully, revealing one of Oswald’s goons, beckoning him inside wordlessly.

As always. It’s an unspoken show of trust, of commitment from the kingpins side. That Jim is always welcome to come see him, no matter the time of day. No matter that he might be busy, because he will simply make time for his favourite detective.

Jim would be lying if he said it didn’t give him a little power rush every time.

Today though, it does nothing to alleviate his anxiety.

As always Oswald’s eyes light up when he spots him. The goon he had been talking to is quickly ushered away.

“Jim! How nice to see you!“

It would be so easy to simply let himself be lured into friendly conversation.

Which is exactly why he ignores the pleasantries, lest he lose his courage to do what he came here for.

It’s not like Oswald isn’t used to his rudeness by now.

“I need a favour.”

Oswald’s smile dims considerably, and Jim tries his best to ignore the fresh stab of guilt.

“Oh? Do tell me which case has managed to catch your fancy this time!”

This is where he starts to sweat.

“Can’t tell you. It’s a delicate case.”

“Well,” Oswald replies, clearly annoyed now, “I can hardly help if you won’t tell me what brought you to my doorstep in the first place. What do you even want me to do?”

“Come with me.”

“As much as I’d love to come running even though you refuse to tell me what it even is about, I’m terribly busy at the moment. So, regretfully, I’ll have to refuse.”

Of all the times for Oswald to deny indulging him, now is a terrible moment.

“It’s very important.”

“So are my plans. You can’t just barge in here and expect me to drop everything.”

“Please, Oswald.” Please.

“What’s in it for me?”

Relief washes over Jim like a tidal wave. Bargaining means that he’ll at least consider it.

“Anything you want.”

Unwise to offer a blank check, but he already owes the man too many favours for it to matter much anymore.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” ***************

The vacant house Jim has chosen for their ‘stakeout’ is mostly empty. No furniture either, which makes it look bare and naked.

It’s as empty as the warehouse on the other side of the street, in which not even a single suspicious looking figure is lurking.

Dammit. Leave it to him to find the only non-suspicious warehouse in all of Gotham.

Either way, he keeps throwing glances out the window, keeping up appearances regarding his reason of being here.

Strangely enough, Oswald hasn’t yet asked for a real explanation as to what exactly they are doing here.

Which is both strange and very helpful, since he has none.

Hoping to keep this up by distracting the disgruntled kingpin, he does his best to start up a conversation.

“So, uhm. How are you?“

Great. He’s never been especially good at small talk, but it seems that today he’s hit a special kind of low.

Oswald, ever polite despite the mischievous glint of amusement in his eyes, decides to indulge him anyway.

“I’m good, thank thank you. How about you? I hope you haven’t been too swamped with work?”

“It’s fine,” Jim answers, before remembering he should be very stressed out indeed, if he went to Oswald for help with a case.

“Uh, I mean. That’s just how work is, right?”

Truly, a silver tongue.

Oswald giggles, and the sound calms his racing heart a bit.

“God Jim, not that I don’t appreciate your efforts to appear more civil through some small talk, but please don’t start telling me about the weather.”

“Sorry,” Jim replies a bit sheepishly, before remembering something else that might work.

“I brought snacks?”

They both sit down on the old carpet, Oswald a bit inelegantly, although neither of them mentions it.

Either way, Jim wishes he had thought to choose a place with chairs - this can’t be especially good for Oswald’s bad knee.

“Here, choose a sandwich. I have one with cheese and salad, and one with tuna.”

Oswald snatches the one with tuna after only a moment of consideration, making Jim smile.

So he likes tuna, huh? Good to know.

Not that that information would ever be useful, but he files the information for later anyway.

Oswald, after taking a first hesitant bite, looks at him in shock.

“Jim, did you make these yourself?“

“Wow, are they that bad? I figured you wouldn’t like the store bought stuff, so I…”

“On the contrary!” Oswald exclaims, seeming excited, “it’s really good! I didn’t think you were capable of making edible food.”

“Whoa, harsh,” he replies, nonetheless smiling at the hidden compliment.

“Harvey must appreciate your sandwich making skills on your stakeouts…”

“I don’t really-, I mean. We mostly eat hotdogs.”

Oswald’s satisfied smile tells him that his accidental admission hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Yes he’d thought about this, yes, he’d put in more effort than he likes to admit. Oswald hadn’t been supposed to know. But if there’s one thing Oswald is good at, it’s finding out things other people don’t want him to.

It’s part of the reason why he is so so good at what he does, and also the reason he is so useful to Jim.

Conversation does manage to come a bit easier after the offering of food, as Jim notices once again how easy it is to become enthralled by Oswald Cobblepot.

After half an hour, the realisation hits him that he has neglected to ‘watch’ the warehouse entirely now, and Oswald has yet to call him out for it.

It would make him more suspicious, if the man weren’t smiling openly and breaking into surprised laughter at his latest stupid story.

“..he really said that?”

“He did!“ Jim replies, glad that he managed to amuse the smaller man with his partner’s silly antics.

And it’s just very nice to see Oswald so seemingly carefree, to see him genuinely smile and giggle, even throwing in a few jokes himself.

It makes him happy. Makes him want to witness more of it.

Another feeling it inspires in him is guilt. Deep, bone-crushing guilt.

Because of course none of this is real, their happiness running on borrowed time. Obviously he lured Oswald here with ulterior motives. None that are too bad in the grand scheme of things, but ulterior motives all the same.

There’s a weapons deal going down today. A big one. One that he deeply suspects Oswald plays a substantial part in, and would ideally like to oversee personally to make sure everything is running smoothly.

He knows this, because there is a long planned operation to take place today in order to bust it and arrest everyone present, especially Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. Because if he were to be captured there, amidst the tons of illegal weapons as evidence, it would likely be enough to lock him up for life. In Blackgate, or perhaps even Arkham, which is worse still.

Theoretically, he should not have known about the operation at all. Because it hadn’t been his in the first place. He thanks god it isn’t because this would not have been a possibility then. But Harvey had pulled him aside one day, telling him. How he had known about it in the first place, who’s to say.

Either way, he is thankful.

Because he cannot, just cannot bear to see Oswald in jail. Unable to help, having to sit idly and watch him suffer, entirely powerless. Not again.

So he ever so selfishly decided to make sure Oswald would be otherwise occupied on this fateful day.

Stabbing his fellow officers and his own beliefs in the back by making sure they wouldn’t be able to convict a known criminal and murderer.

He’d thought about it. Thought long and hard, in those sleepless hours of the night, trying to come up with a solution. Trying to discourage himself from interfering at all. Trying to reason that it would be far better if Oswald was safely locked away, sparing so many people from his wrath and power-hungry plans.

He’d decided to watch, to stand by as events unfolded on their own. After all, how was it his fault when Oswald went and got himself arrested? It wouldn’t even be him to do it, but some other officer. His hands would be clean.

Much better this way.

And yet, when the day had come, he had found himself getting up, preparing things, and heading to Oswald’s residence, ready to do whatever it took for Oswald to come with him.

Prepared to lie, scream, beg, or fight off all of the man’s goons and pull him along by pure strength. Thankfully it hadn’t come to that.

How pathetic and selfish he was.

But if it comes down to it, he’d rather live with that guilt, another tarnish on his soul, than see Oswald locked up again.

It’s a greedy decision. Entirely self-serving.

It’s beneficial to Oswald, sure, but he isn’t sure that will outweigh the mans distaste at being lied to and manipulated.

There will probably even be suspicion that Jim had been part of the plan, distracting him so that the strike-force could hit his organisation at its most vulnerable.

But Jim is willing to take the blame. Even hopes that that is the conclusion Oswald will come to, because it would be worlds easier than explaining his actual reason.

Which he himself can’t entirely explain.

He wouldn’t blame Oswald either. It would be the more logical conclusion, more in tune with their past actions.

He is willing to be the target of Oswald’s wrath. Is maybe one of the few people who can confidently risk that, without having to fear ending up dead or missing by daybreak.

It’s a special privilege granted to him for no conceivable reason.

Asking for a reason isn’t exactly a priority on his to-do list though. Or on it at all.

If you have as many enemies as Jim Gordon, and live in a city like Gotham, looking a gift horse in its mouth is not a wise decision.

Live and let live. And if you are incapable of that, destined by nature to tear down everything in your vicinity, be glad for whoever lets you live anyway.

It would be easier not to feel guilty about going behind Oswald’s back if he didn’t seem so innocent in his joy right now.

And if this entire thing didn’t feel so much like a goddamn date.

Suddenly he is terrified that that is exactly what Oswald thinks it is. What other reason could he have to drag Oswald out here, when it’s so obviously not for a case?

Oh god. And Oswald let himself be dragged here anyway. Despite having very important other business, as Jim knows damn well.

Isn’t complaining while he is sitting on this dirty floor with him (damnit, he should have brought a chair or something, what about Oswald’s knee?) and isn’t complaining about the objectivity mediocre sandwiches either.

He seems like he’s.. enjoying this. Enjoying spending time with him. Talking, joking, complaining about their life, stealing glances when each of them think the other isn’t looking.

Suddenly, another thought. Does he want this to be a date? Does he?

He imagines it for a moment, and finds that the idea is not entirely off-putting. Is, perhaps, filling him with a sudden rush of warmth and panic.

Yes, he wants this to be a date. Even prepared nice food (as nice as he is capable of) and, in hindsight, dressed with slightly more care than usual.

Fuck.

’Too bad I probably blew whatever chance I had by pulling this little stunt.’

Oswald hardly seems like someone who is a fan of being lied to, manipulated and having his trust abused.

It works out in the crime bosses favour in this particular instance, sure, but it’ll probably seem entirely different from his perspective. Might still destroy whatever fragile trust there is between them right now.

“Fun as this has been, I must go now,” Oswald says, disturbing his racing thoughts of panic.

“I would love to repeat this little ’stakeout’ though, what do you think?”

The amusement is clear in Oswald’s voice, hardening Jim’s suspicion that the clever man has long been aware that the obscure reason Jim has dragged him here for is nothing but a cheap trick.

Trying to ignore his suddenly dry mouth, Jim offers: “Perhaps you should wait a few hours to make that offer, to see if you still want it by then.”

After all, if he doesn’t at least hint at the truth now, if he just keeps pretending like everything is fine, the betrayal will become more unforgivable later on.

The panic must have shown on his face, because Oswald laughs out loud. Openly laughs at him, and does so even more when he notices his confused expression.

“Oh James, I’m so sorry. I thought you realised by now.”

“Realised what?” He answers, trying not to let hope bloom in his chest.

“You really think I didn’t know about the GCPD‘s little plan? That I would be caught blind this easily? Oh dear.”

Leaning over in another fit of giggles at Jim’s bamboozled expression, Oswald seems to be having a field day.

“So you really did want to protect me with this little stunt? That is so sweet.”

There is a lot of things Jim wants to say, but words seem to evade him right now.

“Of course I suspected, but… I did not think you would care.”

“I..” Jim answers, still battling deep confusion. “w-what?”

Oswald reaches out, laying his hand on his shoulder, burning him. Levelling him with a stern stare, suddenly serious once again.

“I knew, Jim. I knew about the operation, and I was prepared, as your colleagues will soon be able to tell you. But I went along with this entire thing anyway, because I was curious about your motives. You did not disappoint me.”

Of all the things Oswald said, the last one keeps repeating in his mind like a broken record.

You did not disappoint me, you did not disappoint me, you-

“I.. didn’t?”

Oswald’s stern expression melts into one of warmth, of happiness. For some unconceivable reason, it conjures the thought of honey. It makes Jim want to lean in and taste those lips, to find out whether they taste as sweet as they seem.

Makes him want to drown in those warm pools of ice currently fixed at him, staring into his soul.

“You didn’t, quite the opposite actually. I thank you, James. For caring. For doing your best to protect me, in your own way. This kindness will not be forgotten.”

“It’s fine,” he croaks out, trying to keep the redness from his face. “I’m just glad you’re…” safe. Not angry at me. So irresistibly smart. “…okay.”

“Of course I am, silly.”

“Well then,” Oswald adds, trying to get up, an endeavour Jim immediately jumps to his feet to help him with, “I really do need to get going. Until next time?”

Is that hope in his voice? Or just his usual detached politeness?

“Sure.”

“Splendid! Although perhaps a different location would be more suitable. I was thinking a café perhaps, if you please. Are you free on Tuesday next week?”

“Uhm,” Jim replies, caught off-guard by this sudden turn of events. “I guess so?” To tell the truth, even if he wasn’t free, he would probably just take the time anyway. He devotes so much of his time to this city, it simply has to survive without him for a few hours then and when.

“Wonderful, it’s settled then. I’ll contact you about the closer details.”

Oswald limps towards the door, turning around one last time to say: “By the way, it’s cute that you think you can successfully lie to me. You have a terrible pokerface my dear.” With those words, he leaves the room, leaving a baffled Jim in his wake.

Only after the other man has left, does the realisation hit him.

He has agreed to meet up with Oswald on tuesday. Tuesday next week. Tuesday the 14th of February.

Valentines day.

[dead-yandere]

Lumine character study

ALTERNATE TITLE: Lumine makes a mess and doesn’t clean it up.

Takes place after the main Liyui Archon quest, but before she goes to Inazuma

WARNINGS: DEAD DOVE, unusual writing (not in her pov but written as though it is), pseudo-necrophilia, crazy blood and murder, defiling of corpses written in both a comedic and somewhat erotic way,

viewer discretion is advised.

sat on top of Qingxu Pool’s tallest mountain, is a young blonde. The tippity top is hardly wide enough to sit herself, so imagine Paimon’s disappointment when she just has to float beside her. She can disappear at whim, so Lumine doesn’t really… care… She’d rather stare down at the Fatui encampment below them. The payment is good, she’s not scared of them… but there is an undeniable disadvantage.

She should be proud. Not many others are capable of boasting a vision, let alone a powerful one, let alone two… probably more once she continues her travels through Teyvat. No matter what she tells herself, though, none of it helps with how clammy, sweaty, shaky her hands are, almost slipping off the rocks she’s clinging so dearly for life onto. Okay. Calm down. Fatui members.

6 Fatui skirmishers. More than the usual bunch, great. Cryogunner… Hydrogunner… Fucking hate that combo, c’mon guys… Electrohammer, one of those guys that can just disappear… the annoying geo shielder… two pyroslingers…

“Hey, Paimon,” The strange little girl appears in her face, zero regard for her personal space (the usual.) “If I jumped down and hit em with a super high up aerial attack, y’think it’d kill at least one of em? Maybe make em dizzy, at least?” Shit. Being nervous is one thing, but if Paimon tries to comfor-

The little girl looks down at the group, guarding a Rex Lapis artefact they stole. Why can’t Zhongli deal with this? Dickhead. “Umm… Paimon thinks that if you jump down there, um, you’re gonna lose… pretty fast…” Great. Discouragement. Exactly what Lumine needed.

“Thanks. If I die, then Tartagles will totes leave the fatui with a heavy heart, hey Paimon?” She gets up, barely able to balance without rocks chipping away.

“Lumine, stop talking like that- and you can’t seriously think he’d do th- HEY-“ She didn’t even get to finish that sentence before Lumine’s already flying down, less than gracefully, at her adversaries.

—————

my ass is NOT writing a fight scene . be grateful it’d take up too much space in a tumblr fic anyways

—————

Bruised, bleeding… Paimon was right…

Lumine spits out some blood as she turns toward the now corpses of those enemies she was so scared of going against. “P-Pretty bang-up job, eh?” With her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face, Lumine proudly states so… Paimon’s still staring at her in horror, and now disgust and worry. “… Hey. Here’s some mora…” She passes a bag of coins to the small girl. “I’ll um, I’ll clean up. Pretty nasty mess for some innocent civilians to walk in on, eh? You can like, do whatever in Liyue. Your choice on where you stay tonight!” Great deal, right? Lumine’s out of her way and Paimon can do whatever she wants!

“Aren’t you um… injured? As the best tour guide in Teyvat!! um! Paimon thinks Lumine should go to a clinic quickly… or at least Qiqi.” The little girl tries to persuade, but a simple “Paimon. I’m fine. Leave me alone.” Is enough for her to finally teleport away. At least for some time.

The sun is setting. The air is cold, enough to give goosebumps, but nothing more. In another world, Lumine was an artist. In another world, Lumine would have been painting this picture, one of a lone girl standing over corpses far larger than her, with humid, strangely stale air, keeping her hair from flowing too much. This is beautiful. She’s beautiful. She closes her eyes as she soaks it all in, imagining another person may see if they walk by. Qingxu Pool is quiet, generally lonely, but she should… still be considerate, she supposes.

First, the electrohammer douche. Before she was capable of landing the final blow, he smashed her face in, WITH ELECTRICITY... Honestly, she should be glad she’s still alive. Maybe that’s why her mood’s been all over the place since then, though. Dick. Maybe she’ll gut him, leave his innards out for the beasts of Teyvat to devour. It’d be an embarrassment to the Tsaritsa to have her pawns left like this, right? As she pulls off the heavy armour, she smiles warmly at the sight of his torso, twisted, broken, damaged beyond return, visibly changed from the strong Anemo currents that blasted through his body while she fought him. She quietly prays for those that she’s let escape. The fatui, sure, if they escaped they could get help with only a chance of permanent damage and retirement… But the hilichurls? The slimes, the abyss mages? She highly doubts that the beings under the Abyss Order gain any sort of help if they come back injured. Her brother may be kind, but to these types?

Anyways, removing the masks would give them back their humanity, so she’ll keep those on. It’ll also help show the fatui’s weakness, an enemy so strong they’re mutilated beyond return, but kind enough to keep their identities hidden away? She wonders if they’d see it that way. She’s gotta put SOME fear in the fatui, no? It’s not like she enjoys carefully cutting at the skin, pulling the entrails out with her bare, cold hands. It’s not like the hardly functioning organs, shifting and pulsing beneath her fingers, begging to still be of use, are giving her the weirdest boner ever. She’s not like Childe. Or Hu Tao. So why does the image of her enemy’s suffering, brutalized, agonizing corpse, give her such… weird feelings?

Once she’s got her joy from the electro vision wielder, she’s ready to move on. Both the cryo and hydro fatui are far too large to properly move, no offence… but that’s not a reason to not try! Maybe she’ll lay them down, head in the water, so it looks like they just passed out and died via drowning. That’d be kinda funny. If she plays around too much it’ll be totes obvious the crazy hot chick that killed them has something wrong in the brain. Last thing she wants is to lose her innocent cute girl look. Sad!

Then she remembers. Hm. Uh oh.

Lumine gets up with an awkward stumble, glancing around the area. Shit. She never dealt with the one that can disappear, right? Um…… What’re those guys called again?

“Ummm…. Fatui pyro agent…….?” She whisper-yell-questions, as she gets up and properly looks around. If he got away, not good. Not good at all. He knows how she looks. He… probably… knows what she’s done with the corpses. “Pinkity promise not to tell everyone? I’ll prommy not to kill you!” As usual, not taking anything nearly as seriously as someone like her should. After finding no blood trails, nor any elemental ones nearby, she accepts her fate. Can’t chase something that’s long gone. Letting her anxiety ease itself, she turns towards the pyroslinger, who she left a less than ideal gash in between the ribs of.

She flips the body over, staring, almost instantly using her hands to prod inside of it’s wounds. Hehehe. Ugh. The only one who’d even be vaguely understanding of her strange… joys… is Childe. Okay. Maybe Hu Tao. But still. THE PROSPECTS AREN’T GOOD!! Two of Liyue’s biggest creeps shouldn’t even be compared to Lumine. All these complaints as she defiles this corpse. Whatever! She’s having fun and that’s really all that matters, so long as she isn’t caught, right?

Two more left. And she really would like to describe in detail what she’s done to them, but, ah, well…

She mutilates the corpses to the point of no recognizability other than the cloth covering their bodies and the masks on their heads. But now her dress is bloody. Like, more red than white bloody. Why must her life be filled with turmoil?

As she washes her bloodied dress in a pool of water, she looks at the scene left behind. Truthfully 0 explanation for the way the bodies will be found, all left in varying, entirely different ways. It doesn’t necessarily matter, not like Childe will defend them, the far from loyal Harbinger has made it abundantly clear that those that are weaker, are worthless. Good thing he’ll never find out she almost got her shit kicked in! Tee-hee!

As she limps back to Liyue, she finds that same agent that got away, bleeding, disheveled, leaning on a rock. Hm… guess there’s more time to plan a variety of ways to convince Paimon she’s been this big of a mess since the original encounter!

[romancemedia]

My Review of LoliRock.

Last night I finally completed my binge watch of LoliRock and after some thought here is my review of the series. LoliRock is a fun show with great music, amazing animation and lots of fun stories. Though some might say it was probably one of your typical magical girl shows, LoliRock is unique and special in it’s own way. 

I loved watching the girls different adventures in fighting Mephisto and Praxina, singing, helping people etc. It was all amazing to watch that you simply can’t look away, especially when it comes to the beautiful animation, scenery and whenever the girls were performing. I liked the girls characters and what they each bring to help while proving despite their differences, they all have a strong and healthy friendship. I also enjoyed the romance aspect, especially the main romance between Iris and Nathaniel. They are so cute together and though they are shy to outright admit their feelings, it’s clear they know it’s mutual between them. Aside from them, I did enjoy some of the other romances the show provided whether it was Talia and Kyle or the characters the girls were helping. 

Lastly as for the villains, Mephisto and Praxina were pretty decent, but could be really annoying sometimes. However, if I had to pick which twin I liked better it would surprisingly be Mephisto. I hated Praxina, especially the way she talked and acted. I found her to be WAY too obnoxious.

However, not every show is perfect and LoliRock had a few faults of it’s own. There were certain themes and elements that got a little boring after a while like how Iris narrated the episode by writing in her journal or when an Oracle gem was being restored to the crown much to Gramorr’s dismay. It was always the same scenes over and over again during season 1 and it got old pretty fast, but I’m glad the creators started to get a bit more creative in season 2. I also felt there was some fault to the storyline or characters. For example, there was never a proper introduction where Talia and Aurianna first met Nathaniel.

I enjoyed season 2. I loved how the girls got to expand their music careers, learned new spells and explored new places never seen before, but I feel like it was lacking in certain areas and didn’t quite live up to its full potential. They missed out on so many opportunities such as Lyna and Carissa becoming main characters and could’ve even joined the band too. I would’ve enjoyed seeing this girl group expanded. It was rather disappointing they didn’t appear in every episode and instead only appeared in a handful. Not what I was expecting.

I also find it frustrating with other certain characters.

Izira - Although she remained on Ephedia, I was kinda expecting for Izira to make regular appearances. I was hoping for more expansion and development for Izira’s character whether it’s being a mentor or ally for the princesses, but sadly she hardly made any appearances until again near the end of the series.

Lev - When he first appeared at the end of season 1, I thought he was going to play a bigger role in the show’s future, especially when he followed the girls back to Earth, but nothing! He never made another appearance until Stop in the Name of Lev. Why build up so much drama and potential, only to end up not using it at all. It feels like a complete waste.

Aunt Ellen - I feel like they really missed out on building up more of the mystery surrounding her. The only time they ever hinted about her character was early in the start of season 2. Why couldn’t they have started giving hints earlier or for that matter, give us more clues than just a single episode. What’s worse is that she doesn’t appear as a secret ally to the princesses again after that episode. It’s really kinda frustrating.

Doug - He is a recurring character, who is a big fan of LoliRock and is friends with Nathaniel. He made plenty of appearances during the first season, but by the second, he was practically gone. He almost never appeared again other than maybe 2 episodes and a cameo in the series finale. It annoys me how they seemed to almost completely drop him as a character when he is brings such a fun and vibrant aspect to the show. 

Nonetheless I still enjoyed season 2, but I gotta say it could’ve been a lot better. I just hate seeing so much potential wasted. Overall, LoliRock was a fun show to watch that I would rank an 8/10 and I am really sorry that the series was cancelled. I would’ve liked to have seen what was next for the princesses and Praxina as the new big bad. 

[shardkeeperwip]

I decided to move the opening of Shardkeeper to earlier in the day to better introduce Rebecca and Paige before things hit the fan.

Excerpt under the cut.

My chest tightened and my feet rooted themselves to the dirt below while the other girls moved easily around me. Free choice of partners – so freeing to everyone else – froze me to the spot. Canoeing. It was just canoeing. I could hardly slow anyone down or get in anyone’s way. It was just sitting in a little boat and rowing. I’d wanted to do it a half-hour ago. Now I was sure I was going to mess up.

Sasha hurried past me to play rock-paper-scissors with Alma over who got to pair with Jasmine, the only one in the troop who’d been canoeing before. Other girls gravitated to their best friends or split off from larger gaggles into duos. I scanned the thinning crowd for someone who might offer their hand first. I didn’t want to annoy anyone. I told myself that it wouldn’t matter that I’d never done this before. Almost none of us had. We’d all be equally bad at it.

Some eyes glanced at me and then quickly slid away to other partners just as our gazes met. I’d done it. I’d held still too long and made it weird.

I felt a presence behind me and a light smack on my shoulder. I turned to see Paige Cullen’s freckled face and cheerful brown eyes.

“Come on, Rebecca,” said Paige, smiling brightly. “Don’t just stand there. Let’s pick a canoe and go!”

The tension that paralyzed me in place melted into relief, followed by regret.

“She just follows Paige around everywhere. Like she’s lost.” The whisper overheard at breakfast echoes in my thoughts.

“You’re okay with always doing stuff with me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Where’s this coming from?” She cast a fierce gaze around at the other campers as though hoping she’d catch one of them smirking.

“I just… I mean… I’m not holding you back, am I?” I stammered. “In case you want to go with someone else?”

“I’m cool with going with you,” said Paige. “Did you want to go with someone else?”

By now everyone else was partnered up, so I shook my head and followed Paige. Why shouldn’t I always hang out with her? She was my friend, after all. I hesitated to call her a “best friend” because I’ve never really been sure where the mark is for that sort of thing, but we probably counted. She’d introduced herself to me at lunch one day. I was too shy to do more than just answer her questions at first, but now we share our interests and hang out. I don’t know how I’d have ever gotten along if Paige hadn’t made the first move.

Seven canoes set forth on the small lake (really more of a large pond, I thought). It didn’t take long to get the hang of rowing as we worked together to steer. A light breeze and an overcast sky kept us cool while a pair of ducks watched us from the reeds. It was nice. I let myself relax and followed Paige’s commands when she wanted to turn. It seemed silly that I’d been so hesitant earlier. This was fun.

“Your turn,” said Paige. She turned in her seat to face me.

“Huh?”

“To lead. You need to face the other way.”

“Oh. Uh.” I felt my stomach drop as the canoe rocked from side to side when I readjusted. What if I capsized us?

The canoe stabilized and I settled into place. I could see that another canoe had lost a paddle and the girls were pulling it back with the one they still had. They weren’t angry at each other for losing it, just giggling and cheering when they got it in reach.

“I need to be braver,” I muttered.

“Hm?”

I considered pretending I hadn’t said it aloud. That I’d just said ‘Let’s go left’ or something else. But I swallowed and repeated myself, head turned to Paige could hear.

“I need to be braver. I’ve been so worried about messing things up that I’ve been holding myself back. Look, Katie and Amanda can lose a paddle and carry on like nothing happened. I… I think I need to let myself make mistakes. I need to be braver.”

I wanted to scream. I really just said that all out loud, hadn’t I? I looked back at Paige, who put a hand to her chin in thought.

“You know,” she said. “I might just have an idea.”

[riverstardis]

new year, new me, new you:

FINALLY HERE

seb just wants elle to take over as his mentor but she says she can’t unless he makes his complaint official :/

ouch ethan is soo badly sunburnt😭😭 and cal doesn’t look burnt but doesn’t look that tanned either??

cal’s telling alicia about some “bahama babes” that were following them around and apparently he had to give them his number just so they would leave him alone. and when she’s gone ethan goes “bahama babes? you spent most of the holiday reading dan brown novels and actually pining after alicia” and cal says he’s hardly gonna tell her that though is he💀💀💀 cal does really like alicia but he wants her to think he’s not that bothered about their relationship. maybe because he thinks she’s not looking for anything serious and he doesn’t want to get hurt? or maybe it’s just because he doesn’t want to tarnish his bad boy reputation so he’s playing hard to get. tbh though after what happened with taylor it’s pretty understandable that he’s having issues with a proper relationship. doesn’t really excuse him treating alicia like this though does it.

elle asks cal and ethan if they’ve made their new year’s resolutions yet and cal’s like “no need. nothing to change” fucking hell🙄 she tells them that if they want to apply for the south african research project they need to submit proposals by the end of the day

cal says ethan should go for it because the flat’s getting a bit crowded and ethan’s like “it’s my flat!” RIGHT????? cal’s so annoying😭

aw alicia tells ethan that her mum spent the holiday trying to set her up with eligible bachelors “the curse of having an invisible boyfriend” ffs cal do better man

eww alicia peels some burnt skin off ethan’s nose. he goes “it’s no skin off my nose” HAHDHJFFJFKFK

after speaking to alicia ethan decides to write a proposal. so basically he’s just doing it to get away :( the thing is he clearly knows that she likes him back but he also knows that she doesn’t seem to be planning on breaking up with cal anytime soon

dylan bestie i’m not sure telling seb to try not to kill anyone right in front of the patient you’re leaving him to treat on his own in resus is such a good idea

cal’s kiss club game sjskfkkg

seb told louise about dylan supposedly trying to kiss him and how elle doesn’t believe him and now ofc she’s telling everyone else

“but he was married to that fit soldier bird, sam whats-her-face?” oh this must be less than a year until sam comes back now right?

seb’s listening in to them talking about it and smirking🤬 and noel remembers the photo that had seb and dylan hugging in the background😬

max tries to warn dylan about seb but he dismissed him before he can actually say why he should be worried😬

cal finds out about alicia’s mum trying to set her up and he wants to borrow ethan’s tablet so he can “hit back” by posting some “buff holiday snaps”… seriously cal? ethan helpfully voices my exact sentiments “this is ridiculous. have you even asked her how she felt about it?” “about what?” “about the fact that you jetted off to the bahamas and left her to spend christmas with her parents!”

cal’s like “why? has she said something?” and ethan’s just exasperated and says it doesn’t matter

wow seb’s really laying it on thick now isn’t he

poor grace :(

now cal’s just sitting reading ethan’s research proposal on his tablet??? i suppose the mistake he made last time was not actually reading what ethan had written before he stole it

elle sees him and asks if he’s applying and he looks at alicia to gauge her reaction and then says yes and says to alicia “sorry do you mind me jetting off again?” even though she very clearly DOES mind, especially as it would be for 3 months and she probably thinks he’d been planning to apply but just hadn’t told her. he’s literally doing that hot and cold manipulation technique🚩

elle pushes him to submit it there so she knows he’s done it before the deadline so he submits ethan’s proposal🤬🤬🤬🤬

ethan talking to his patient “you can’t choose who she falls in love with … i know how hard it is but sometimes you have to face facts, accept that it’s not going to happen, and decide what’s more important. otherwise you might lose her forever.” lovely patient parallel

speaking of patient parallels, seb’s one with his patient is even less subtle lmao

connie demanding all grace’s medical notes so she can find out what happened😬

elle reminds ethan about the application but he’s changed his mind and elle says it would be tough to beat cal’s anyway and says the title which ethan obviously recognises as his own

i think seb was going to come clean to elle after encouraging his patient to come clean but he’s too late bc louise already sent her the photo

dylan’s “Im NoT eVeN gAy” sjskkkfkg

max believes dylan

ethan goes to alicia’s looking for cal but she says he’s gone to london for the night and ethan’s SO angry :(

“has something happened?” “i don’t even know why i’m surprised, it’s not even the first time he’s done it!” “done what?” “stolen my proposal!” “‘airway management after major trauma’ that’s yours?”

he says cal also stole £15000 from him once and he also shows her a big smiley face on his stomach where cal put sun cream but left him sleeping on a hammock. OH so it’s cal’s fault that he’s so sunburnt??? that doesn’t surprise me😭

“you know when you care about someone you want them to be happy, right? when they clearly don’t care about you then eventually you think why am i bothering?! he never does anything for my sake, ever! so why am i holding myself back with you? i’m watching him hurt you and i would never, could never do that!”

“alicia, what i said at christmas, i meant it. i love you. and i think you care about me as well.” “it’s too late though, i’m with cal” “i know, believe me i know. but i don’t care. life’s too short. i think i’ve worked out what my new year’s resolution’s going to be. for once i’m putting myself first.”

YEAAAAAA THEYRE FINALLYYY KISSING🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

aww robyn saying “do you think dylan’s going to be okay? he hasn’t reacted well to these things in the past”

seb ringing his dad… so he’s literally doing exactly what he told his patient to come clean about

dylan throwing and kicking over furniture :((( and dervla running away :((((((

[cosmiccrushes]

Not Part Of The Crew

Law x OC || 2.3k words chapter

Read the other chapters here!

***

CH 3

To his annoyance, Law laid awake late into last night. Cerulean Blake. Law rolled her name around in his head. It didn’t sound familiar. It was possible that she’s a pirate, but Law didn’t think so. Trapped as she’d been, she likely would have invoked the flag she sailed under if so.

He’d finally fallen asleep, wondering if she got her name from the deep blue of her eyes. Another question he’d probably never get an answer to. 

When he awoke, groggy and rather grumpy, he tried to convince himself not to go see her. What was the matter with him anyway? Just because it was in front of him, didn’t mean he needed to solve the puzzle. He could go read a mystery novel if he had such an inclination. This line of thinking held him through breakfast.

The agitated tapping of his fingers on the table drew the attention of Bepo. “Something bothering you, Captain?” His navigator asks. 

Law presses his hand flat onto the tabletop. “No.” 

Bepo, well-versed in Law’s moods, looks at him skeptically. “You seem a little bothered this morning.” 

Law sighs, conceding. “I’m just contemplating what to do about our stowaway.” 

“I thought we were going to drop her off at the next port?” 

Law presses his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes, we are.” 

“So what are you contemplating?”

“I don’t know, nothing I guess.” Law massages his temple. “Just wondering what her story might be. We’ve never had a stowaway before.”

Bepo nods in understanding. “I’m sure it’s not likely to happen again. Most people wouldn’t want to stowaway on a pirate ship.” 

Law hums in agreement, but he’s pretty sure she didn’t mean to stowaway on a pirate ship. They would’ve picked her up in the food shipment they acquired from Ashita Island. Law wagered she’d probably hoped to get loaded aboard a merchant vessel. A ship transporting the cargo but unlikely to open it right away. Unfortunate for her that Penguin had immediately acted upon his craving for mangoes. He’s been so affronted last night as he’d recounted to Law the number of the fruits their uninvited guest had bruised in her assault on the crew.  

Law’s amusement at the situation must’ve shown on his face because Bepo asked, “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Law replied tersely, shoving back from the table. “I’ll be in my study.” 

Law was trying his best to focus on the medical text in front of him, even succeeded for a time. But as he read over a passage on stitching techniques, he remembered the red line of a cut on Cerulean’s arm yesterday. She must have caught herself on the shipping crate. After rereading this same paragraph several times and comprehending nothing, Law snapped his book shut, tossing it onto the sofa beside him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at the closed book as if it was personally to blame for Law’s thoughts drifting in such an unproductive way. 

Fine, he would just go take care of her wound. It’d be good practice anyway. And if he got the opportunity to ask her a few more questions…well, that was hardly a crime. He gathers his bag of medical supplies, ignoring the twinge of excitement in his stomach. He wanted to be a doctor. This is what doctors do. That’s all. 

***     

Law knocks on Cerulean’s door, swears he hears a disgruntled sigh from within. 

She opens the door, a scowl already on her face. “You!” Her features smooth into mild surprise, as if she didn’t expect to see him again. “What do you want?” She demands. If she were part of his crew, he’d be annoyed at the lack of respect in her tone. He’s still annoyed, he’s just not sure what to do about it. He’s also fascinated by her fierceness towards him. Surrounded on all sides by pirates on their own ship, yet here she stands, looking affronted at his presence. He can’t help but admire her resolve, still unsure if she’s brave or foolish.   

He holds up his bag of medical supplies. “I saw you were injured yesterday. I came to offer medical care.”  

Her mild surprise deepens to a quizzical look. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” When she doesn’t make a move he asks, “Can I come in?” He suspects his irritation at having to ask to enter a room on his own ship bleeds into his tone, but it can’t be helped. He’s annoyed with himself that he’s even here, asking. He should’ve just ignored her until she left.

She stares at him, mouth hanging open before she presses her lips into a firm line. Law tracks the gesture trying to determine its meaning. But then she steps back, waving him into the room. 

“Surgeon of Death, huh.” She sounds amused. “I always assumed that was just a moniker.”

He pauses in placing his medical kit on her bedside table, turning to look at her. “You know who I am?” It surprises him. If she knew who she was dealing with yesterday, why be so reckless? It’s not his ego talking, Law knows the type of notoriety attached to his name, designed it to be so.

She levels him with a look that says you’re kidding me, right?

Law shrugs. “I guess I have my wanted poster to thank for that.” 

“Yeah and the bounty that goes with it. Little hard not to notice those kinds of numbers.” She moves to sit on the bed. Rolling the sleeve up on her injured arm. 

Law hides a smile. “Yeah, that too.” He’s not sure why he’s feeling pleased with himself that she knows who he is. Plenty of people know of him, as he makes a name for himself on the sea, all part of his plans. But the fact that she knows who he is and still dares to quip back…well, it’s not helping diminish his growing intrigue in her. 

He drags the bedside table closer to the bed, before dropping down beside her. She wordlessly offers him her arm, an angry red cut across her bicep. He sets to work. 

“I’m surprised you’re letting me treat you so easily,” he says, immediately regretting it as she tenses in his grip. He looks up from his work and is met with her wary gaze. 

“Why?” 

“I just meant, I thought you might put up a fight. You don’t seem all that…trusting,” he responds, carefully. Drawing his gaze back to his ministrations to escape the flash of fear hiding just behind her guarded eyes. He didn’t want to make her afraid, while also knowing it shouldn’t really matter to him if she was. He blew gently on her cut as he applied a stinging salve to disinfect the wound. 

“You can hardly expect me to freely trust notorious pirates, particularly when I’m a prisoner on their ship, but I know that an infection at sea is a death sentence anyway.” 

Law wants to roll his eyes but refrains. “You’re not a prisoner. I told you we would drop you off- and I meant it.” When he glances back up, she is watching him thoughtfully. 

“Yeah,” She says slowly. “You did.” She tilts her head at him. “What I can’t figure out is why. I snuck onto your ship. I punched you. Why haven’t you killed me?”

It’s his turn to look at her quizzically. “Are you serious?” He repeats her earlier question. 

She laughs. The sound is short-lived, but causes a warmth to spread through his chest. 

“Good gods, you’re right.” She covers her mouth to hide her smile. Law’s fingers itch to pull her hand away. “Don’t get me wrong, my preference is definitely for not dying.” She lets her hand fall back to her side. “I’m just surprised.”

“I told you, you’re not my enemy. And you’re right. Whatever you’re running from isn’t my business.” He says the last part as much to her as he does to remind himself. 

“What makes you think I’m running from something?”

“You were hiding in a crate of mangoes,” he says drily. 

“Touché,” she responds.

They lapse into silence after that. Law finishes treating her cut, finding it isn’t deep enough to warrant stitches. He’s packing up his medical supplies, going slower than he needs to. But he can’t help the desire not to leave her yet. She’d all but confirmed that she is running away from something. But what? And what would Law need to do to earn another piece of information?

He heads towards the door, mulling over a proposition. “Would you like a tour of the ship?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. Her eyes brighten, and she nods a yes. Trafalgar Law can’t decide if he’s made a terrific decision or a terrible mistake.

***

They go to his office first, so he can drop his medical kit off. She wanders around his study, making him nervous as she pauses at the closed door that leads to his private quarters. But she seems to recognize this and moves on, perusing the books on his shelves. Law stands awkwardly beside his desk. He’s not used to having people who aren’t part of his crew here. 

She skims her finger down a line of books, head turned to read the titles as she goes. “So you’re really a doctor.” She turns to look at him. “Did that come before or after the big bad pirate name?” Her tone is teasing and Law finds himself wanting to answer. But he never talks about his past. He never tells people about his childhood. 

“Before,” he allows. 

“Hmm,” her mouth pulls into a thin-lipped smile.   

“What about you? How did you come to be a bard?” 

“Ah, well, some of us are born with natural talents, you see?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Can’t be taught from a book, I’m afraid.” She cocks her head at his shelves of medical texts. She’d done this work since childhood, then, if he were to read into her vagaries. She seemed less outwardly hostile today, but still holding tight to her personal information. Not that Trafalgar Law was one to talk.  

They began their tour, moving along in what Law found to be a companionable quiet. A question from her here, an answer from him there about the ship. He stuck to showing her the crews’ quarters, the cargo holds, the medical bay. He figured she didn’t really need insider knowledge of his ship's machinery. He saved the galley for last, mostly to avoid the congregation of his crew for lunch. Now, past the prime lunch hour, Law thought they’d be able to eat in relative peace to conclude their tour. As he announced this to her, she frowned. 

“Wait a minute,” she said, holding her hand up at him. “What about the deck? I haven’t seen the sky in days.”

“Oh,” Law almost laughs at himself for neglecting such an important piece, realizing he’d been distracted by the discerning way she examined her surroundings, wondering what kind of thoughts were running through her head. “We’re underwater.”  

Her mouth opened and closed several times and then she stepped from his side to stand directly in front of him. “We’re underwater!?” She exclaimed. 

Law nodded. “It’s a submarine.” He couldn’t tell if she found this news upsetting or exciting.

She stared at him perplexed. “You are terrible at giving tours.” 

This time he did laugh. A rough bark, he bit off before it could go any further.

She goes on. “That should’ve been, like, the first thing you told me.” She shakes her head. “So much for jumping overboard, I guess.” 

“You were planning to jump overboard?” 

She shrugs. “I hadn’t ruled it out.” 

“I take it you’re a good swimmer then,” Law said, knowing he was fishing for more information from her. 

“Eh, decent. But I figured I could drown in the ocean just as well as I could get run through on the end of a pirate blade.”

This irritated him. “And am I carrying a blade now?” His tone was hard and he knew he was being unreasonable. Her distrust of him was warranted, smart even. How was she to know if his hospitality wasn’t meant to manipulate her into a false sense of security? She’d known him for less than a day. But still, it bothered him that she might think he intended to kill her at any moment. 

That false, syrupy sweet smile is back on her face. “From what I hear, Surgeon of Death,” her voice deepens as she says this, taking on a rasp that makes his heartbeat inexplicably quicken. “You hardly need a blade to cut me.”

She’d hardly need a blade to cut someone either, Law thinks to himself, swallowing hard and looking away when he realizes he’s staring. “Come on, let’s eat.” 

He doesn’t try too hard to get anymore information out of her over lunch. She seems content to eat her food and ignore him. Law escorts her back to her cabin after. He lingers as she steps inside and starts to close her door. Abruptly, he puts his hand against the wood, stopping her. He means to ask her who she’s running from, the question snagging in his mind all day. But as the spike of adrenaline from his rash action ebbs, he instead finds himself asking, “Would you like something to read?”

She looks at him like he’s sprouted another head. And maybe he has. He’s certainly behaving as if he’s operating with someone else’s brain. He’s internally chastising himself- just leave her alone! 

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m desperate enough to read medical books.” 

He very well may be out of his mind, but no. “Do you like mysteries?”

She considers for a moment. “Sure, as long as they don’t involve me.” 

Haha, Trafalgar Law thinks darkly, wishing he could claim the same.